


Muggle Matters

by lzclotho



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Drama & Romance, F/F, Family Dynamics, Magic-Users, Muggle/Wizard Relations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-08 11:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1939512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lzclotho/pseuds/lzclotho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Regina Mills teaches Potions. Student Henry Swan is starting his first year. And Professor Emma Charms is teaching a new multicultural awareness class called "Muggle Matters." All three journey to Hogwarts for the new school year. Setting is a couple years after the Battle of Hogwarts. Professor Minerva McGonagall serves as headmistress of Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. King's Cross Station

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [this manip](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/64026) by absedarian. 



> Prompted by an image by absedarian that I reblogged and upon which an anon commented that they'd like to know what happened when they got to Hogwarts... I have been overtaken by madness assuredly. This is currently unbeta'd and could use someone well-versed in Hogwarts and the Once Upon a Time characters to help me keep it in line. If you can easily use Google Drive, all the better.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry Swan meets Professor Regina Mills when boarding the Express to Hogwarts. Emma Charms does too.

**Chapter 1: King’s Cross Station**

 

“I’m really looking forward to this!” a brown-haired boy shouted back over his shoulder as he came running through the magical barrier, pushing his baggage cart before him.

The cart jerked to a sudden stop, throwing him off-balance and, arms holding him up on the cart handle, he looked up stunned at a tall dark-haired woman. She wore a really nice coat, black leather he’d have to guess, tied at the waist with a matching belt. She must be rich, he thought, aware too easily of his secondhand shirts and pants under his school robe. She hadn’t touched his cart, and her dropping hand held an unusually pink-red wood stick.

“You should really be more careful, young man,” she told him once he snapped his mouth shut.

He read correction, but no aggravation, in her tone and gave her a sheepish shrug even as he smiled broadly and announced, “You can use magic! I can, too! I’m Henry!”

“Hello, Henry. I am Professor Mills.”

“Cool! You teach at Hogwarts!” he deduced excitedly.

“I do.”

“How did you stop my cart?”

“As you said, with magic.”

“Will I learn how to do that, too?”

“Almost certainly.”

Henry looked around at the chaos. He frowned and rounded his shoulders, before looking back up at Professor Mills.

“Do you know how I can put my stuff on the train?” he asked.

“Certainly,” Professor Mills smiled, charmed by the energy and earnestness she read in the boy. Putting her hand gently on his shoulder, she felt the small bones through his thin coat. She turned him around to face the rear of the train. “The baggage cars are there,” she said. “You’ll give your cart over to the man there in the blue suit. When you show him your letter from the school, he will give you a ticket so that your belongings arrive safely to your dormitory room at Hogwarts.”

The boy started away, intent on pushing the cart laden with his supplies from Diagon Alley, only to stop a few feet away and run back to her.

“Henry, is something wrong?”

“My mum would smack me if I forgot to say thank you.” He inhaled and exhaled and blurted, “Thank you!”

Though dismayed by the implication that this sweet child might suffer physically at the hands of his parents, Regina couldn’t help responding to his exuberance. She laughed heartily. “Well, Henry, you tell your mother that you have excellent manners. You are most welcome.”

“See you at Hogwarts!” he yelled, racing off to push his cart to the baggage cart.

 

###

 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” the blonde woman muttered, pulling the strap of her canvas duffel over one shoulder. She adjusted the lie of her red leather jacket before picking up a battered tan hardcase off the platform concrete. “I don’t even like riding the trains in London. Why the hell would I want to ride a crowded _magical_ one?”

Before taking her own turn, Emma watched a family: mother, father and what looked to be a pre-teen girl, as the three of them linked arms and made a parade line through the Platform 9¾ wall, watching how they accomplished the feat. It seemed rather solid after all.

But all of them easily slipped through. From one step to another they were before the wall, and then they were not. Her eyes widened in surprise.

She decided to go when a single older teen boy started for the barrier. For what felt like more than a breath she felt resistance, and, startled, she tried to turn back. Unfortunately the move only upset her balance and spinning on her bootheel, she fell backwards, landing hard on her elbows on the concrete, looking up at the wall she had just come through.

“Shit,” she muttered and quickly got back to her feet, dusting off the back of her jeans and resettling her one partially askew bootheel before pulling her red leather jacket arms to be sure she hadn’t torn the elbows.

Breathing out, she glanced around, growing more and more hopeful, as everyone else appeared to continue about their business, that no one had noted her clumsiness. She finished her circuit of the crowd, however, only to stop as her line of sight intersected a sharply dressed brunette woman seated on a bench, legs delicately crossed over the knees, and carafe raised in front of her face… Well, most of it. Over the top, Emma could plainly see darkly lashed brown eyes staring at her.

Dimples formed tightly in both cheeks revealed something more: the woman was laughing at her. The longer Emma stared, however, the narrower the eyes became, and the dimples disappeared.

Emma snatched up her bags and stalked out toward the train. Her path took her right past the woman’s almost throne-like position on the platform bench.

“You look lost, dear.”

Emma turned aside.

“You’re not going to get to the Tower on this train. Best let me help you find the right train.”

“I’m not a tourist,” Emma replied.

“Really?” Emma’s eyes were drawn downward as the woman uncrossed her legs and stood. Emma crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to be chased off by the woman’s presumption. She knew exactly what was going through the woman’s mind as her eyes scanned Emma head to toe, and found her insufficient. “You’re too old to be a student.”

“That’s true,” Emma replied with a wry smile she guessed would frustrate the woman before her. “So, good guess, I’m not a student.”

The train’s whistle sounded, heard easily over the rush of people.

Emma smirked, turned away and muttered, and lifted her hands. Her duffel, and the brunette’s luggage, rose into the air. “All aboard for Hogwarts,” Emma said, popping her hands together and watching the brown eyes widen with shock as the bags floated, almost parade-perfect, up the boarding steps.

“See ya,” Emma said, following the last bag into the recesses of the train.

She felt the air pop, separating to allow the frame of an apparating person to appear directly behind her.

“Nice,” Emma said, glancing back only once to see glowering brown eyes about two feet away.

“Where did you put my bags?”

“There ya go.” Emma pointed to where the designer luggage was arranging itself on the overhead bin of the nearest coach space.

“I am not sharing this coach with you,” the brunette said. With a snap of her wand, her bags were beside her in the narrow train corridor.

“Suit yourself.” Emma shrugged as she sat back on the seat, kicking her bootheels up on the opposite bench, reclining back and closing her eyes. “See you at Hogwarts.”


	2. Welcome and Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma's nervous about her appointment to Hogwarts. Regina gets a surprise, and Henry is sorted during the feast in the Great Hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Delenn for beta reading services on this chapter. Any remaining inconsistencies with the HP verse are mine.

 

Emma awoke with a groan and a stretch when she felt the train slowing. Looking around to see she was still alone in the small cabin seating, she stood and slipped a hand inside the wrist of her red leather jacket withdrawing her wand. With a grimace she spread her fingers out and rubbed her thumbs along the knotty hickory length. She had only half listened as the shopkeeper Mr. Olivander told her about its properties when she selected it. All she knew is how comfortable it felt against her skin, how it seemed to hold her even as she held it. Tears blurred her vision, and she angrily swiped them with the back of her hand before setting the wand on the seat beside her.

Reaching into her duffel she pulled out the robe. Like the wand, she refused to have either of these visible in her London neighborhood. There were apparently wizard laws about the wand being seen by Muggles, but the robe made Emma feel even more lost to the world she had navigated alone for nearly 30 years. Minerva McGonagall had assured her that she would grow more comfortable the more she learned, but until then she would wear her Muggle clothes when she could.

Unfortunately, Hogwarts would not have many opportunities, if any. Not if she was to fit in here. So she quickly pulled off her red leather jacket and pulled on the robe, securing it up the front and adjusting the roomy sleeves. She looked out the train window seeing her reflection because the sun had set. She sighed at the sight of her bedhead. Threshing her fingers through her long curling locks relieved the worst of the knots, but she decided a ponytail would be better and started to reach into her duffel for a hairband when she wondered, "Should I try it?"

She'd done so well moving the bags, but just like her son had learned to push a toy before he could grasp it, she knew instinctively levitation had to come before manipulation. But she had apparently spent her childhood accidentally manipulating things, leaving in her wake a chaotic wave of mishaps and destruction.

She had chalked it up to bad luck but her social worker had always simply shaken her head and said, "What will we do with you now, Emma Swan?" before driving her back to the group home.

She lifted her wand and decided just to try retrieving her brush and hair-tie without manually pushing through her bag's contents.

" _Accio_ brush!" She said, her tone as quick as her wand's twitch.

The brush flew out from the bag smacking Emma in the face with an audible crack of the plastic against the bone of her nose. Dropping her wand next to the fallen brush Emma grabbed her face and cursed, "Bloody hell!"

Her hands cupped a bloody mess. Tears mingled with blood coming from her nose. She grabbed a white cotton t-shirt from her bag and gingerly pressed it to her face to stop the flow and test whether she had actually broken her nose.

It didn't seem broken, but she'd no doubt have a couple shiners in a few hours. She cleaned herself up conventionally. Then she brushed her hair into a ponytail.

There was nothing she could do about the blood staining her robe now. Maybe Minerva could help.

Picking up her bags, Emma started for the door only to pull back slightly when she heard young voices. One in particular she was intimately familiar with every cadence and emotion. And right now he was beyond ecstatically happy.

She peeked around the edge of her doorway in time to see a group of boys and girls clotting as they laughed and marveled and gibed one another leaving the train. Her gaze found a first year boy in his robes waving his wand like a conductor's baton. "I can't wait to be sorted!" he yelled.

Emma was wondering what would happen then, too. After the children cleared, she exited the train herself and found the platform virtually empty. One cart stood at the beginning of a path leading up to the school’s main building. She grimaced at the sight of the scrawny birdlike black beast pulling in the traces. _More weirdness_ , she accepted, but gingerly she tossed on her bags and then stepped up herself.

Watching the building looming closer, Emma several thoughts she should turn back. She should forget all this magic-and-Muggle stuff. There had been little that was enjoyable about scraping together a life on the financial edges of London. But at least she had known everything about that life.

However, that apparently made her perfectly suited for what Minerva McGonagall had planned. Emma stepped off the cart near the school and saw McGonagall approach.

The woman’s eyes widened in alarm as she took in Emma's appearance. "Emma, what happened?"

She lifted her wand. Emma flinched, unable to stop herself.

"Dear, it's all right. Hold still." A quiet word under the older woman’s breath and Emma felt the pain and swelling recede.

"Accident," Emma said with a wince. "Henry?" she asked quietly.

"About to be sorted. Come on," Minerva said, grabbing her arm.

 

* * *

 

Regina was surprised to hear movement behind her. Her eyes traced to a blonde in robes with a ponytail being guided to a seat between Hagrid and Pompfrey by Headmistress McGonagall. _So that’s where she went_ , Regina thought, having noticed the woman's absence a few moments ago.

She inhaled as she recognized the blonde woman from King’s Cross. It had to be her though the red leather was gone, and she wore a professor’s robe. She decided the woman was an assistant of Rubeus Hagrid, the gamekeeper and instructor for Care of Magical Creatures. He had bent to speak quietly with the woman.

McGonagall’s gaze swept those at the head table, moving quickly past all of the teachers before looking at the blonde with concern. Then her gaze lifted again, lighting on Regina. A note of thoughtfulness entered the older woman’s eyes before she started around to the front of the high table dais.

 

* * *

 

 

“Pardon me.” There was a pause as a giant of a man with a dark full beard and mustache sheepishly pulled his hand back where it had covered Emma’s on the table. Suddenly he spoke again. “Yer new.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Rubeus Hagrid, Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Emma Sw-- Charms.”

“But don’t --?” Hagrid looked toward a white-bearded man on the opposite side of the table from Emma and himself. “Flitwick didn’t say--”

“Charms is my last name,” Emma corrected. She was going to add more when McGonagall stood and tapped a piece of silverware to the side of her glass.

"Good evening, everyone! A warm welcome back to all of you. We have many wonderful things planned this year to teach and encourage each of you to become the best wizard or witch you can be."

She nodded toward another side door. "Now to introduce you to Hogwarts' newest students."

The doors opened and awestruck 11-year old boys and girls stepped through taking in all the sights. Some whispered in hurried hisses and pointed to the starry skyfield that filled in the ceiling.

Emma noticed the headmistress moving again and tore her eyes from Henry's awestruck expression-- she hadn't seen him this enthralled in years. McGonagall had a hat in her hands with a broad brim and a sagging point. It looked to be both new and older than old.

Hogwarts’ headmistress spoke again. "First you must be sorted into your houses to learn who you will live and study with for your time here at Hogwarts."

Cheers went up from the students already seated at the tables, drawing the attention of many first year students. But then McGonagall put the hat on a stool.

“The Sorting Hat!” came from among the new students. Emma bit her lip to contain her smile, swallowing hard as recognized Henry’s voice. It was the only thing he had wanted from when they realized they would both be coming to the school. She was determined, as long as possible, to honor his request to be seen as his own person.

Then the Sorting Hat _spoke_. Emma’s gaze riveted to the thing as it rattled off an epic rhyming verse, describing the founders of each of the houses and the history of the school.

She was considering the song’s many lessons as another instructor from the head table started reading off names, and one by one the first year students approached the hat, sat upon the stool underneath it and were Sorted.

“Henry Swan.”

By reflex she tensed, and her hand squeezed the top of Hagrid’s beside her as she zeroed in on Henry approaching the steps.

He had eyes only for the Sorting Hat. Emma bit her lip wishing yet dreading that he might look at her. She had no idea of the meaning of any of this, but her stomach was as twisted as if she was about to go through this herself.

 

* * *

 

Professor Regina Mills sat near the far end of the head table, having enjoyed watching the youngest students enter and being able to half-listen as they whispered to one another. She recalled the brown-haired boy from their encounter in King’s Cross and watched him approach the Hat. He reached for it, and she found herself holding her breath.

The Sorting Hat settled over him, almost completely obscuring his head and shoulders, he was so small. He wriggled on the stool. A murmuring erupted from the hat and then it spoke clearly, “Ravenclaw!”

Regina smiled widely; that was her house to supervise this year. She watched him fall into the hugs of several Ravenclaw students, and another first year who had also been sorted into Ravenclaw. He had obviously befriended the other boy on the train.

As an “S”, young Henry Swan was near the end of the sorting process, and soon, Minerva was reviewing the school’s rules and forbidden areas then announced one last item:

“There are a few new faces among our faculty this year, so let me introduce you.” Normally she would have introduced new faculty at the beginning of her remarks, so Regina wondered why the change in plans.

McGonagall smiled toward the far end of the table, opposite Regina. She recognized him before Minerva spoke: “Professor Robert Aygee will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.” Then as everyone applauded, and Regina struggled to pull her face back into neutral from a deep frown, Minerva smiled to their side of the table.

“And it is my great pleasure to bring a new curriculum to Hogwarts, the study of Muggle Matters, building bridges between our worlds, which will be ably taught by Professor Emma Charms.”

The blonde from King’s Cross stood from her seat next to Rubeus Hagrid and stared out at the crowd. “Thank you,” she said quietly. There was silence. Regina stared.

Someone clapped. Others joined in. Regina’s head snapped around to the students, finding Henry clapping, and elbowing a boy next to him into clapping as well.

Regina continued to stare. Emma Charms was a Hogwarts professor? Muggle Matters? Was the woman a muggle? Regina had seen her do magic. And the family name, Charms. Regina had never heard the name before anywhere. Granted she didn’t know everyone, but she felt blindsided, like somehow she should have known, should know.

The woman dipped her head then smiled and sat down once more.

 

 


	3. House of Ravenclaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry has his first Ravenclaw common room meeting with the head of house Professor Mills. And Emma has a meeting with Headmistress McGonagall.

Henry trailed Yomar Kexos, an Egyptian-born third year student, and walked next to Alyssa Milo, a Greek-born first year student he had already met on the train. A sizable crowd of students surrounded them, chattering as they finished their tour by arriving to the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room. His head swam, and he was looking forward to settling back somewhere comfortable and simply digesting it all.

“Hey, Henry?” Yomar asked.

“Yeah?” Henry looked up surprised to find he and Yomar stood alone in the corridor. He’d thought Jackson Barr, one of the Ravenclaw prefects, had said something but apparently he’d already gone inside.

“You been staring at that portrait for a while. You coming in?”

Henry blinked and really absorbed the painting on the wall near the secret entrance, with its magical moving figures. It looked like a Monet painting, and that was the first reason it had caught his attention. He recalled really enjoying the few Monets he had seen during his primary school museum trip.

The central figures were a mother and son, both dark haired, and their clothes were simple, but the mother kept turning from her washing to shoot sparkles in the air from her wand. The boy would run off chasing after them, while his mother returned to her work. “Reminds me of home,” he said absently.

“I thought you grew up in London,” Yomar said.

“I did. But my mum, she’d always do distracting stuff when she needed to do work ‘round the apartment.”

“Your mum was a Muggle?”

“No.” Henry bit his lip. How to explain that he and his mom hadn’t known anything about this world, or called the quirky little tricks she could do ‘magic’, until five months ago? “She just did stuff.”

Yomar seemed satisfied by that answer, and Henry followed him through the door to the common room.

Other Ravenclaw students were reclining on every conceivable surface in the comfortably furnished space. Henry spotted Alyssa sitting on the floor with a couple other first year girls, Donna and Morgan. All three sat at the feet of a fourth- or fifth-year girl named Ivanna. Alyssa had introduced her as her dorm-mate during dinner.

Just as Henry and Yomar settled to a spot on the floor, Jackson came through a laughing cluster of older boys. “All right.” The commotion in the room settled quickly. “So, we’ve had a tour of the castle. You’ll find updated copies of your class schedules in your cubbies. Professor Mcgonagall issued some changes from the ones you received over the summer.”

“What’s with ‘Muggle Matters’?” This was asked by a sixth year, smart-looking and bookish, pushing glasses up his nose. “Some of us have muggle parents and live out there, too? What are we supposed to learn?”

“But some of us don’t,” Jackson replied. “McGonagall’s idea, and the Ministry’s, too, is to break down the separation that comes from misunderstanding. That’s how we got Voldemort, y’know.”

“So, instead of field trips to Hogsmeade, we’re taking trips to Muggle places?”

“And learning more of their culture, yeah.”

“Those trips’ll take weeks away from our real studies. Charms doesn’t even look like she can use magic,” someone muttered.

“She can,” Henry said quickly.

“How do you know?”

Henry bit his lip. Less than a day in Hogwarts, was his secret already going to come out? He considered what to say. “She was on the train.” That was true and, as his mum might say, what others conclude in the silence isn’t your problem.

“So you’ve seen her use magic?”

Henry nodded. Remember, Hen, he could hear her voice in his head, they can only hold against you what you say.

“She must have been a worker at the Ministry in the Department of Muggle Affairs,” Alyssa concluded. “I can ask my da.”

Henry bit his lip to prevent a fervent ‘no’ from escaping.

“So, everyone cool?” Jackson asked, looking around. There were nods and murmurs of agreement. “So,” he began again. “You know you can come to any of us prefects if you need something. Me, Levia--” He pointed to a girl with long blue hair standing up to his right. “Or Chase and Anton,” he lifted his other hand toward a boy and girl on his left. “But we also have a couple of faculty members who were Ravenclaw when they were students. One wanted to visit tonight to welcome you herself.”

Jackson stepped back and aside as the other older students did the same. Henry smiled as he took in the woman rising to her feet from a comfortable looking stuffed chair by the fireplace. He recognized the woman from King’s Cross Station. He also recalled seeing her when he entered the Great Hall, sitting closest to the doors at the head table.

“My name is Professor Regina Mills. All of you will be in my potions classes, but I wanted to specially welcome the first year students to Hogwarts and to Ravenclaw house.”

Henry smiled and it seemed Professor Mills caught his eyes and smiled back before she continued.

“This is my first year mentoring students, but Ravenclaw was my home away from home for as many years as you are about to enjoy. And I hope I can help to make them an even richer experience.”

The other students erupted into applause and Henry joined in. He didn’t imagine it this time. Professor Mills’ gaze did find his and her smile made him feel very special.

Jackson returned to stand alongside Professor Mills. “That’s all we have, so, a reminder, curfew is set according to your year, first years earliest. You must be back here in the dormitories by that time. Lights out is midnight for everyone. That will only change in the week before O.W.L.s and finals, so use your time wisely. Ravenclaws have always been top students at Hogwarts, so it’s part of your responsibility to maintain that reputation.”

Henry nodded vigorously. He was so hungry for knowledge about magic and the magical world he had already started reading all of his textbooks since McGonagall had taken him and his mother to Diagon Alley to purchase them.

“So what are you going to do?” Yomar asked him as he stood up.

“Read for a while up in the tower room,” Henry said.

“I’m going down to the Ravenclaw game room,” Yomar said. “Come with?”

“Nah. Have fun,” Henry said easily. The game room admittedly interested him, but he was a Muggle gamer, and knew nothing yet of magic games. Not wanting to embarrass himself on his first day, he decided he’d wait until he learned a little more about them.

When he stood up, he found Professor Mills standing in front of him. “Henry Swan, isn’t it?” The professor’s brown eyes were smiling at him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said quickly straightening his robe.

“I trust you had an enjoyable train ride?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Have you had a chance to send an owl to your mother that you arrived safely?”

Henry blinked and bit his lip. “I - uh, well, I guess she knows.” He frowned. Did his mum know he had started the clapping for her following her introduction? Had she seen him?

“Why are you looking worried then, dear?”

Henry rolled his bottom lip into his teeth. “I guess I should send her a note.”

“Would you like an escort to the owlery?”

“You don’t have to. I’ll do it later.”

“If you’re sure? Wouldn’t want your mother to be upset.” Professor Mills searched his face. “Are you all right, Henry?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“If you’re sure, I’ll say good night then.” She squeezed his shoulder. Henry frowned. “You let me know if you hear from her?”

Henry swallowed. He had no idea how to answer. Nodding, he said nothing.

“All right,” the professor said.

Henry stood alone in the common room long after Professor Mills had left. Then he went to his room, gathered one of his books, and climbed the stairs to the tower room to read by moonlight for awhile and give himself time to think.

 

* * *

 

 

“Headmistress, you sent for me?” Emma fidgeted with a hand on the door to the Headmaster’s Office. She’d received a whisper-note on her way to her office, the paper drifting in and landing on her desk as she stared.

“Emma, please come in.” Minerva had shed her hat, but stood now from behind the massive desk. “Have you found everything all right so far?”

“My classroom, my rooms. It’s all… so much,” she said honestly.

“Did you enjoy dinner? The Sorting?”

Emma smiled. “Yeah, yes. Henry was so excited.”

“Indeed he was, Ravenclaw is a wonderful fit for him, I should think. Now, I know you did not have your education with us, but I’ve been having a bit of a chat with myself about that.”

“You’re still going to help me gain control, right?” Emma worried. She was expected to teach students who had magic. Even if typically she wasn’t going to use it in her classroom, any perceived weakness and troublemakers would run her roughshod. She knew this, unfortunately, because she had been one of those students. She hung her head a little at the reminder of how unprepared she felt.

“Lift your head, dear. It’s all right. I’ve already decided to make you my student in all ways, in magic and in teaching. I rearranged my schedule and most of your classes I will be a mere snap away.”

“But I’ll still learn to control magic.”

“Dear, you have magic. You’ve actually controlled it quite well. Otherwise the Ministry would have found you decades ago.”

“But I never had a wand.”

“And that is how you will truly gain control. Tell me, what hit you in the face on the train?”

“My hairbrush.” A sound erupted from McGonagall that made Emma look at her strangely. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Oh, dear, if you don’t laugh, you’re not enjoying yourself. Don’t use your magic for simple things. Use it to make your life, make yourself, better.”

“What would have made my life better was more money, more time, knowing my parents,” Emma replied sharply. “Not getting knocked up in my teens and raising a kid on my own who was also magical, and trying to hide it from the whole bloody world.”

Minerva said nothing as Emma vented, and her gaze became solemn as she leaned back against the top of the desk.

Emma bit back her tears and firmed her jaw.

“I know. Let me tell you what I do know of your parents, and given you something of that childhood perhaps.”

Minerva went to a bookcase and withdrew a thick leather-bound book. “I already told you their names. David and Snow were students here, at the same time as the first war against Voldemort. They were classmates, though not friends, of Lily Evans, James Potter, and Sirius Black. Their last year here at Hogwarts was unremarkable. Your mother Snow specialized in flora and fauna magic, growing plants and healing animals. Your father David Charms wanted to be an auror, and had begun working in the ministry when Voldemort’s threat became most fully realized. He and Snow were not part of the Order of the Phoenix, but both fought on the side of right.”

“They died at that too,” Emma said sagely, fighting between pride and distress. She had heard about Voldemort from Minerva before.

“They did. While they were here, I think you’d be pleased to know, David was in Ravenclaw house and Snow was in Hufflepuff.”

“So, Henry is following in his grandfather’s footsteps.”

“Yes. Would you like to know where you belong?”

“You mean --?” Emma stared as McGonagall brought out the Sorting Hat from behind the desk. “But that’s for students.”

“And you will be my student,” Minerva said.

Emma looked at the hat, and she knew the anxiety roiling in her stomach, as well as childish hope, both showed on her face. She reached for the magical item, her fingers lingering over the feel of the cloth. She could feel the hum of magic into her fingers and the hat wriggled in her hands. She almost dropped it, but resettled her grip at the last second. “Sorry,” she mumbled to the hat.

Minerva said, “Sorting Hat, I would be pleased for you to meet Emma Swan Charms. Please sort her into her house.”

The hat wriggled and Emma lifted it over her head. She settled it over her blonde hair gently.

“So, you have experienced much in your young life, Emma… Swan, the eternally faithful animal, and Charms, you have a noble heritage. But you do not believe in it, in yourself, do you?”

Emma wasn’t sure what to answer to that. Every word was true, but to voice it seemed wrong. She was here, she could learn, and she wanted to know who she was. Hogwarts, McGonagall had assured, was the best place to do that.

The hat was not done ruminating. “You have natural skills. And confidence will undoubtedly come with more learning.” Emma thought of Henry and how happy he had looked to have an answer of sorts for their ‘specialness’. She wanted that certainty, that belonging. “You hunger for being worthy of others’ belief in you,” the hat said. “Hmm…” it hummed in her ear. “Gryffindor!” it announced.

Emma blinked as the hat fell silent. Lifting it reluctantly from her head, she looked at Minerva. “Really?”

“The hat is never wrong.” The headmistress smiled. “It’s my house, actually.”

That made Emma feel very special. She handed back the hat and watched the other woman put it away on a high shelf. “So, what happens now?”

“You have as much studying to do as your students,” Minerva said. “Let’s start with some wand-work in manipulation spells.” Minerva pulled out her wand. Emma did the same.

“I did a levitation spell back at King’s Cross,” she told her teacher. “Moved some luggage onto the train.”

“You did?” Minerva smiled. “All right, show me.”

“I kinda hid my wand in my jacket sleeve, and did this.” Focusing on a set of office supplies on the desk, Emma mimicked her motions of that morning and paraded a stapler, lamp, and busts of three prior headmasters, weaving them around herself and Minerva in a figure-eight.

Emma laughed as Minerva clapped, and Emma waggled the wand to make the busts dance in celebration. “You could dance a mean Scottish jig, professor.”

“You, too, Emma. You, too.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, dear. Very welcome.”

_**TBC** _


	4. Collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina teaches Potions, discovering young Henry Swan truly is a bright and eager boy. Emma finishes up her first class and then she and McGonagall are secretly watching Henry's first broom-flying lesson. Turns out Regina was watching, too.

"Excellent answer,  Mr. Gosfrey, five points to Gryffindor. Now, everyone turn to page 394. We will discuss the six differences between beetlewax and bugscorn in elixirs." Regina waited as she heard pages turning. "Could someone tell me why we would use bugscorn and not beetlewax for enhancing a person's speed?"

Regina watched her enchanted chalk repeat her question on the board but she had a feeling this class might not need the aid in future. Well, except for perhaps that Bogel girl, she seemed a little scattered for a Gryffindor. Though, she reminded herself, some children mature faster than others. She'd probably improve with a little time.

She turned around and dipped her head to hide her smile when she saw the first hand already up, as others began going up. Henry Swan was wildly waving his right hand, supporting it behind the elbow with his left. The young man had clearly studied. His hand had shot into the air for nearly all the questions. But she had been waiting, for something she felt suitably challenging. Now, she thought, as the hour drew to a close, this would be opportune to test whether he was more skill or eagerness.

"Mr. Swan?"

The boy drew himself together with a smile putting dimples in his cheeks. He sat upright in his chair and brought his hands together, folding them on the desk. "Yes, professor.” He took a quick breath before continuing with a verbal rush, “We would not want to use beetlewax, ‘cause it should only be used in lotions."

"What would be the consequence in an elixir?"

"Ma'am, the person who drank it would get the runs, but it wouldn't have anything to do with speed."

Regina bit her lip at the humor. She could see by his compressed lipped smile that he recognized he had amused her, and nodded tightly as she cleared her throat of the urge to laugh. "Yes, Mr. Swan, beetlewax is a powerful diuretic if ingested." The bells announcing the end of the session rang across the school. Respectfully the students remained seated.

Regina continued speaking when silence returned. "Ten points to Ravenclaw. Everyone, please be certain to attend your lab sections on time on Thursday.  Dismissed."

Students filed out, tucking books under their arms and talking excitedly. She glanced up at the clock and realized why. These first years were all having their first flying lesson with Professor Hooch after lunch. She smiled, looking back down at her papers as she recalled her first lessons on a broom. _Freedom_.

"Professor Mills?"

She looked up in curiosity at young Swan. "Yes, Henry?"

"Thank you for finally calling on me."

"Continue your studies as you obviously have begun and I'm sure I shall call upon you more frequently as the year progresses."

He snapped himself to military attention and jerked his hand from his forehead. "Yes, ma'am!"

So eager to please, Regina thought as she watched him bolt from the room. She had been that way herself for many years at Hogwarts. Shaking her head in slight bemusement she was starting to sit once more when she saw Minerva McGonagall passing in the corridor outside.

"Good afternoon, Headmistress."

"Good afternoon, Regina. How are you finding your classes?"

"Very good, thank you. And yours?"

"Splendid," and Regina couldn't tell if she was remarking upon her own or Regina's pleasure.

Minerva's eyes tracked away toward the sounds of children arriving to a nearby classroom. "Faculty meeting during the children's dinner hour, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am," Regina said with confusion as McGonagall departed quickly.

She gripped her pen and resisted the urge to curiously follow.

 

* * *

 

“It’s not about it being better or worse,” Emma said. She leaned on her desk, arms bracing herself as she looked out on the classroom to the dubious Slytherin fourth year student who had expressed, yet again, the ridiculousness of learning Muggle things. She was unlikely to forget his name: Bergamot Bones, apparently nicknamed “Berg.” And indeed, she likened his built to an iceberg, going from a small head down to a sizable waist. “You’re not allowed to use magic on summer break when you’re away from Hogwarts,” she reminded.

“Until we pass certain ‘Owls’,” another student said. She was a fourth year from Hufflepuff.

Emma wracked her brain for the name. “True, Vergina,” she said. “It’s called rites of passage. Every child has them. Certain things a person can and can’t do until they are old enough, or pass an examination to do. For Muggles, there’s a big one, right around your age. Anyone have a guess?”

A Muggle-born Hufflepuff fifth year named Michael Lang smiled big and raised his hand. Emma acknowledged him with a nod. “Michael?”

“Driver’s license.” He fumbled into his robes, obviously going for his pockets. “I got mine this past summer. My da taught me.”

Emma looked up at a sound by the door to see McGonagall standing there. The headmistress smiled at her. “What was the first thing you did with your license?” Emma asked Michael.

“Drove a carload of friends to a movie.”

“Without your parents?” another student asked.

“Yeah.” There was real pride in Michael’s voice.

“That’s right. Because achieving independence is always desirable, whether you’re Muggle or magic-born. This class, as I stated at the outset, is about you finding out how to be independent in whatever situation you may find yourself.”

She went on, lifting a stack of forms. “As fourth and fifth year students, you will participate in home visits. For the winter and spring holidays, you will go home with a classmate to experience their world first hand.”

The students looked around at one another, a few fearfully, a few with clear derision on their faces.

“Your homework this week,” Emma added when they returned their faces to her, “is to research one thing you always wanted to know about the world into which you were not born, and we will partner you up with a person who can show you that during the first exchange.”

“What if there’s nothing we want to know?” Berg asked.

“Ever heard of an iPod?” Emma asked.

“A what?”

“It plays music you like.”

“Cool.”

Emma smiled. “Research it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How many parchment pages, professor?”

“Just one for now. We’ll be creating itineraries for our guests and setting up a sort of brochure to advertise our ‘travel packages’ to the class.”

The students murmured excitedly.

The school bell chimed. Emma picked herself up off the desk. “That’s it for today. See you next time.”

As the students filed out, Emma decided she had a long enough break before her next class it was a good time to tidy her room. With a concentrated flick of her wrist, she directed all the display samples still laying on student desks, one by one to their cabinets.

Her stomach fluttered with the awareness that Minerva simply stood there, watching, judging. When the last student was gone, and the last item put away, McGonagall approached her. “Takes time that way, doesn’t it?”

Emma nodded, lowering her wand.

“Have you been studying your spellbook?”

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I think you’re ready to try a more diverse spell.” She lifted her wand and directed her attention, and Emma’s, to Emma’s desk. The disarray there was evident, with quill pens and parchments, and books scattered on the surface. “Neatness,” Minerva said. “And items will return to their assigned storage positions.”

Watching as Minerva twirled her wand toward the desk, Emma wondered what would happen. All those things had only come out of a box that morning. She hadn’t had time to…

She sighed as all of it -- including her half filled coffee mug -- stacked itself into her moving box still sitting with open flaps behind the desk.

“Dear?”

“Well, that’s where they were ‘assigned’ until this morning,” Emma answered wryly to the unspoken question.

“You might also practice relocation. It’s not dependent on your location like accio, but rather reappearance. It disappears from one place and reappears in another.”

Emma nodded. She’d accidentally done that herself as a child. So had Henry, with his toys or a pacifier. Now she had the wand to control her aim. She gave it a shot with a pencil case. “Movelo pencils.”

The pencils vanished from the case and reappeared, raining down over the desk where she had pointed her wand.

Minerva cleared her throat. “Practice.”

“Yeah.” Emma lowered her wand in defeat. “Most of the kids who just walked out of here know more spells than I do.”

“But you, dear, know more about _life_ ,” Minerva stressed.

“And if two kids decided to get into a magic duel in class?”

“Drop a pencil case on them. I promise you it will stop them dead in their tracks.”

Emma rolled her eyes but chuckled.

“And if they’re late?”

“Well, can’t help you with a magic solution there. I scare the bedevil out of them transforming myself from an innocuous tabby cat. But far as I know, you have no animagus skills.”

That made Emma belly laugh.

“You will be all right, dear.” Minerva patted Emma’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you organize your things, but first, I thought I’d ask: have you seen Henry today?”

“I won’t teach his class until tomorrow. I’m nervous about that actually.”

“I’m sure he is as well. Would you like to see him?”

“He would prefer I didn’t.”

“He wouldn't need to know.” Minerva pointed to the classroom window. Emma knew it looked over the huge central courtyard of the castle. “Come here,” the headmistress crooked a finger.

“What?”

McGonagall pointed downward through the glass and Emma pressed close.

Emma could see students assembling on the field far below. A teacher in white curly hair and a hawk-like face was striding up and down two facing lines. “They have brooms!” Emma exclaimed. “Who’s the teacher?”

“Rolanda Hooch. You’ll meet her tonight. I have her coming to see me about teaching you. All the first year students are getting their first broomstick lessons today.”

Emma scanned the students. “Henry’s down there? Right now?”

“Mmm hmm.” A portion of the glass, when she tapped it with her wand tip, became a magnifying glass. “You should be able to find him easily now.”

Emma pressed herself to the spot eagerly. She found Henry quickly. He was just throwing a leg over the broom handle, holding it like he had a stick horse when he was three years old. “He looks so comfortable,” Emma murmured.

“He’s adjusting very well. You should be proud,” Minerva confirmed.

Henry and his students now hovered on their brooms, a few inches off the ground.

“This is really where he belongs,” Emma said.

“This is where you _both_ belong,” Minerva said.

Emma pressed her hand to the glass, wanting nothing more than to reach out and hug her son. He touched back to the ground lightly, fully in control. His smile was beatific, as though Christmas morning, Boxing Day, and his birthday had all been rolled into one.

Henry kicked off again. The maneuver wasn’t as tidy, and he rocked back and forth on his broom before shooting forward. He and another student collided, crashing headlong into one another and falling to the grass.

Minerva had only a second to grab Emma’s jacket before the young mother had transferred herself to the field below. How the girl had apparated within Hogwarts would have to be a later question behind the more immediate one: Was young Henry all right?

She was surprised to see not Hooch, but Mills, crouched over Henry who was unconscious. Hooch was already helping the other boy to his feet.

Mills had her wand out, but before she could lift Henry, Emma had scooped him into her chest, arms under his back and legs. Mills fell back.

“He needs to see Pomfrey,” Regina stated.

“That’s where we’re going,” Emma retorted. She pulled out her wand, but whatever had allowed her to call up the apparation spell before seemed to be blocking her now. “Why the bloody hell won’t the spell work?”

“You can’t apparate in Hogwarts,” Regina snapped.

Minerva winced at the tone which clearly conveyed that Mills thought Emma should know that.

“We’re wasting time!”

“You shouldn’t run with the boy either,” McGonagall said. She wielded her wand and levitated Henry out of his mother’s arms. With deft skill she guided his floating form toward the medical wing of the castle. Regina and Emma followed as though the boy were a carrot upon a stick, each trying to outstride the other.

When they arrived, McGonagall held Emma back from following Regina and Henry inside the ward. “She’s his head of house.” 

“But he’s still unconscious!” Emma worried.

“He’ll be fine, Emma.” Emma glared at her. “He will. I’ve been a teacher at this school longer than you’ve been alive, Emma. Henry will be fine.”

Emma pressed herself to the door and refused to move. Minerva rubbed her back before she walked away, shaking her head.

 

* * *

 

Regina held Henry’s limp hand and sat next to him on the bed where Minerva’s spell had gently placed him. On the opposite side, Pomfrey worked quietly assessing Henry’s injuries. She automatically answered the woman’s questions about how he was injured.

She’d seen it all happen, having come down to the field to watch the Ravenclaw first years and reminisce about her own first days on a broomstick.

“Collision with another student,” Madame Pomfrey mused. “Where’s the other child?” Henry groaned and Pomfrey waved her wand to diminish his pain a bit.

“Already up and walking around. Seems Hen--Swan here took the brunt of the impact.”

“Was the lad hit by the broom or head-to-head?”

“Broom,” Regina said.

Just then, Henry gave a loud groan and tried to lift his hand to his forehead. Only the professor had hold of it. She let his wrist go as his eyes focused on her in confusion. She brushed his hair from his face to encourage him.

“Henry?” she spoke gently.

Pomfrey rubbed something just above and between his eyes. Analgesic cream, Regina guessed as both she and Henry wrinkled their noses at the strong smell.

His brow tightened. “Professor Mills?”

“Yes, dear.”

“I… I thought I heard Ma.” He tried to lift his head and look around. She and Pomfrey pressed his shoulders back to the sheets.

Regina cupped his cheek. “Your mother’s not here. But I am.” She reassured him, thinking he wanted his mother as any hurt little boy might. “I’ll take care of you.”

He smiled sloppily. She continued to soothe him making small circles of her palm on his chest.

Pomfrey examined him and declared he had a mild concussion and would need to stay in the ward for at least the night. She went off to write her report.

“I hafta study,” Henry moaned.

“Not tonight,” Regina said. “You must rest.”

She didn’t move away. “Are you staying?” Henry asked.

“Do you want me to?” He seemed to war within himself; the growing boy old enough to go off to boarding school on his own, but she could see the younger child within his eyes flickering to her, to the rest of the ward around them, watching Madame Pomfrey bustling about. He returned his gaze to her and gave her the tiniest dip of his chin.

Regina remained until Henry Swan had drifted into a healing sleep. As she got to her feet, the sound of something colliding with the wall outside made her jump. “What on earth?” But when she reached the corridor, no one was there.

 

* * *

 

 

Inside the room, Emma stepped out from behind a curtain rubbing her knuckles. Henry was sleeping as she approached the bed. She remained quiet, simply studying him with worry.

“Professor Charms,” Pomfrey greeted her with surprise.

“Henry?” she asked.

“The lad will be fine. Took a broom to the noggin. I’m going to keep him here overnight, so he can rest.”

Emma chewed her lip. “I… need to know if anything happens to him, all right?”

“I always issue my reports to the headmistress.”

“Please? More immediately than that. I…” Emma lowered her voice and looked around. “He’s.. Henry’s my son. He doesn’t want it generally known, but…”

Madame Pomfrey smiled gently and leaned close, returning the whisper for a whisper of her own. “I understand, professor.”

Emma wrinkled her lips and then pursed them. “Thank you.”

“Go on and give ‘im a touch before you go.”

Gratefully Emma bent down over the bed and lightly pressed her lips to Henry’s forehead. “I love you, Henry,” she whispered under her breath.

Without looking back at Madame Pomfrey, Emma strode quickly from the ward.

###

 


	5. Touchy Subjects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and all the other professors visit the headmistress at Hogwarts for a faculty meeting. Sparks fly between Emma and Regina, and the other teachers, as they wrestle with exactly what Minerva and the Ministry are proposing in the new curriculum.

Emma moved just inside the door of the spacious rooms as Headmistress McGonagall gestured toward her living room. The room was filled with beautiful furniture that almost could be called British Victorian; the drapes were open, showing the last of the sunset to the west of Hogwarts castle. Taking in the room, Emma started to speak only to bite her tongue in surprise. The wild white-haired professor who had taught Henry on his broom that day sat easy-as-you-please on a lounger. She was lifting a large stein to her lips.

Starting toward the woman, to give her a piece of her mind, Emma was halted by Minerva’s sharp voice giving introductions. “Rolanda, may I introduce _Professor_ Emma Charms.” The stress on her title was a not so subtle reminder to Emma about her manners.

“The new Muggle Matters, of course,” Rolanda greeted cheerfully. “Welcome to Hogwarts, dear.”

“I, uh, nice to meet you.” Emma stuttered as she was presented with an outstretched hand. “And you… teach flying.”

“Minerva tells me you’ve never been on a broom. Was that why you were watching today?”

“How’d you know I was watching?”

“How else could you have been lickety split on the spot like that? I will teach you. It’s not safe to learn on your own.”

“It doesn’t seem very safe to learn from you either!” Emma exploded.

Hooch’s eyes went wide at the same time Minerva’s admonition erupted, “Emma!”

“Excuse me?” Hooch sounded appalled.

None too gently Minerva’s hand shoved down on Emma’s shoulder, pushing her into an overstuffed chair not quite close enough to make her fall into it without smacking her hip on the corner. Emma winced, but she was silent, which had been Minerva’s goal.

“Have a drink?” Minerva asked.

Emma adjusted herself in the chair leaning forward over her knees. “No, thanks.” She studied Hooch. “I want to know what happened today.”

“I’ve read the entire report,” Minerva said, speaking firmly. “Accidents happen.”

“A lot?” Emma couldn’t let it go. Watching Henry crumple to the ground, hefting his limp body in her arms…

“The Hufflepuff boy was fine. And Pomfrey tells me the Ravenclaw boy is recovering peacefully.”

“His name’s _Henry_ , not ‘the Ravenclaw boy’.” Emma fisted her hands to prevent their shaking; it wasn’t helping. She just couldn’t shake off the fear that she could have lost her son today. She could have been left alone in this freaked out world all over again. “He’s my son.”

“How unusual. A professor with a child at Hogwarts.”

“I made the arrangements,” Minerva said. “Emma was lost to us for a long time. We can help her, and she _will_ help us.”

“There will be charges of privilege.”

“No one knows he’s mine. We have different names.”

“So you are not a Charms?”

“I am. David Charms and his wife, Snow, were my parents. Henry’s name, Swan, is mine from the foster system. It's all I had when I gave birth to him.”

“And the boy's father?”

“A man. A Muggle I knew. Gone.”

“So he’s half-blood.”

“Henry possesses magic,” Minerva said. “So he will learn how to use it. Here at Hogwarts.”

“Henry wants no favors. He’d rather no one know. He made me promise.” God, it hurt, Emma thought.

“The teachers who learn will treat him no differently,” and it was directed toward Hooch.

“I have no problem with it.”

“All right. Now that’s over. Emma,” Minerva sat down next to her, “this isn’t why I brought you here.” A chime sounded and Minerva rose to answer her door. “That will be the other teachers. Guess we will have to table your flying lessons until later.”

Leaning forward and skimming her hand over Emma's arm as Minerva headed for the door, Hooch said, “So you haven’t had much exposure to others who use magic? It’s reasonable to be afraid of what we don’t understand. Isn’t that why you’re teaching Muggle ways to the students?”

Emma pursed her lips and frowned, pulling her arm away from Hooch's touch. “I’m not afraid.”

“So let us teach you about magic.”

“So, it’s true. You don’t know magic?” a voice asked, coming in the doorway. Just entering, Regina turned to address McGonagall, “Then why is she here?”

“I can use magic,” Emma shot to her feet. “Both my parents…”

“Clearly you’re incompetent,” Regina retorted.

Minerva caught the bridge of her nose between her finger and thumb. “Sit down! Both of you.”

Regina settled, smoothing her robe’s folds. “She doesn’t even wear the robes.”

“I wear what I’m comfortable in,” Emma said.

“Emma will wear the robes of her station,” Minerva said. “During her classes. What she wears in her off-duty time is her choice. As it is yours.”

“I just came from visiting a child in the infirmary.”

Emma bit her lip, casting a glance toward Minerva. The headmistress spoke up, “The Swan boy is recovering?”

“He has a mild concussion. I was bringing him some friends from his dormitory.”

“Very well.”

The door chime sounded again. “Oh thank goodness,” Minerva muttered under her breath. “Now perhaps finally we can conduct school business.”

Emma tried to ignore Regina sitting beside her as they both turned to watch the rest of the faculty enter. “Hiyo, professors!” Rubeus Hagrid boomed pleasantly as he ducked through the doorway. “Headmistress McGonagall, ma’am.”

“Good evening, Hagrid.”

Professor Flitwick stepped in around Hagrid’s thigh. “Good evening, everyone.”

Professor Sprout flipped off her large floppy hat as she came inside. “Minerva, Regina,” she greeted.

“Pomona,” Regina greeted, standing and moving with the herbology teacher to another padded bench.

Hagrid swished his wand and temporarily replaced a corner of Minerva’s furnishings with a seat suitable for his half-giant frame. Just as McGonagall was reaching to close the door, a thin bony hand caught the frame.

“Karolya, welcome.” The man standing in the doorway tossed back a side of his dark cloak, revealing a shriveled right arm. The right leg of his trousers flapped and swirled as if hiding a very thin leg. Before she was caught staring, Emma quickly moved her eyes back to his face, the right side of which was gaunt, but less dead-looking than the arm which seemed barely skin and bone. “Another of our new teachers some of you may not know. This is Karolya Aygee.”

Flitwick greeted him. “Your fame precedes you, sir.”

“And yours,” Aygee replied with a nod.

“All right, all right.” McGonagall settled. “I wanted to have this meeting to go over a few procedural changes that are necessitated by the fact that our fourth through seventh year students will be engaging at differing levels with the Muggle world as part of Professor Charms’ class.

“Each of you will co-teach a class session with her and each of you will accompany groups of students on field trips.”

“The Ministry approved such deep interactions? What of our more … willful students?” Aygee asked.

“You will be there to dissuade them, Professor,” McGonagall said. “We will teach the students to respect Muggles.”

“What of the Muggles? Our history is filled with incidents of their ridicule, and their tortures,” Binns said, floating in over Emma’s shoulder. She snapped her eyes back up twice just to be sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. Yes, the Hogwarts history teacher was a ghost.

“We have begun developing a curriculum that will be taught in British schools and the Minister of Magic is working with the ministry of the Muggles education. We need input from all of you regarding what would be appropriate to teach at each age. Eventually we will bring Muggles to places like Diagon Alley, and Hogsmeade, and Hogwarts, as part of an exchange program.”

“How will we assure that they do not use this information against us?”

Emma looked over to Professor Mills. “If we give them our knowledge, what’s to stop them from using it to end us? We parted from the Muggle world to protect ourselves ages ago.”

“And we have entered a new age,” McGonagall said. “We can no longer allow suspicion, fear, or ignorance, to make our decisions for us. That way lies the treachery of those like Lord Voldemort, who will sow seeds of discord to their own ends.”

“And this won’t?” Mills asked. “Teaching our children about Muggles makes them safer. I’ll agree with that. But teaching the Muggles about magic?!”

“Education is the key,” Minerva insisted. “We will all have to commit to making it work.”

“I’m in, professor,” Hagrid rumbled.

Aygee leaned forward. “Dark magic is not a child’s domain.”

“But like our own students, being aware of it is a way of protecting them.” Aygee nodded.

“And the Ministry will allow us to create the curriculum?”

Minerva nodded. “Within reason. We have been advised that officials from both sides will be examining the recommendations.”

“So this could all end with one narrow-minded Muggle?”

“Or a narrow-minded magic user,” Emma said, looking at Regina.

“I have no desire to stand in the way of educating our children about anything.”

“But it seems only our children matter,” Emma retorted. “What about the other kids who died when my parents’ apartment building collapsed under Voldemort’s attack?”

“Everyone is aware of the horror that Voldemort wrought, Miss Charms.”

“It’s Professor Charms, and I’m going to teach all kids what they need to know.”

“How dare --!”

“All of us will,” McGonagall snapped. “Is that understood?”

Emma swallowed and nodded. Regina lowered herself back to the cushion next to Pomona.

“Good. Now, good night to each of you. Enjoy the remainder of your evening.”

 

###

 

Rolanda lifted her mug to Minerva as the woman turned away from the door after shutting it behind Aygee’s gimping steps. “Cheers, dear.”

“I’m not crazy, Rolanda, I know this will work.”

“Your Muggles teacher barely understands her own magic, and your history and potions teachers are so afraid of the Muggles’ history with us they’ll likely cause a cultural incident.”

“The Ministry is sending us staffers as aides for the trips.”

“That’s something.”

“All right, so tell me what you think of Emma?”

“What do you want me to tell you? I’m not Sybil,” Hooch replied, referring to Sybil Trelawney, the divinations professor when Albus Dumbledore was headmaster. The woman had retired after the Battle of Hogwarts and Minerva hadn’t replaced her.

“I don’t need foresight,” Minerva sighed. “You read her as well as I did.”

“The girl has magic in abundance,” Hooch replied. “How did she go so long without being found by the Ministry?”

“I only found her because of the child, Henry. His magic is easy to track. I’ve been teaching her to use her wand. It’s giving me a better read on her magic. But it flares up and then it disappears.”

That made Hooch frown. “And now you say she has apparated within Hogwarts?”

Minerva nodded. “When she saw her son fall from his broom. But then once in the courtyard she couldn’t do it again.”

“Perhaps what she did wasn’t apparating?” Hooch said. “You say you tagged along.”

“Yes!”

“What did it feel like?”

Minerva closed her eyes and took herself back to the sensations. Everything contained in a split second. If Emma hadn’t apparated what sort of magic spell had it been? The only other things she knew that could move a person place to place with such speed were portkeys or the floo network. Neither was present in Emma’s classroom. Time turners only moved a person through time, not space. Minerva resolved to examine Emma’s classroom and the objects she had with her in that space more closely the next time she visited.

“I have no idea, but I most certainly will find out.”

Hooch raised her mug, kicking her feet onto the table. “All right then. Have a beer and help me figure out who’s winning the house cup this year.”

Minerva sat down and pushed Rolanda’s boots off her wendellwood. “You know teachers aren’t allowed to engage in betting.”

“Who said anything about betting? I’m talking dinner.” She shrugged. “Or perhaps you’d like something better? I know you’re always hoping Gryffindor takes the Cup. But Hufflepuff looks mighty fine this year,” she said, dusting her nails on her robes as if she personally handpicked the students.

Considering the woman had been a member of Hufflepuff in her own school years, Minerva just laughed. “Dinner? Is that all you want?”

 

 


	6. In loco parentis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of 'parenting' goes on in this chapter. Emma tells Henry he can't fly brooms for a time after his accident, holding firm in the face of his desire. Then Henry is released from the infirmary in time for the quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. House supervisor Regina Mills accompanies him and his friends to the pitch, where they watch the game together. Emma grows jealous at Henry's easy comfort with the professor and Minerva deals with Emma's magic once more while trying to prevent her from leaving and taking Henry.

 

“So he’ll be released today?” Emma asked in a hushed tone.

“With a few words about precautions, yes. The bone regrowth potion has healed the break, but his muscles will cause him to favor the limb for a few more days.”

“So, no broom riding?” Emma frowned when Pomfrey nodded. “Have you told him yet?”

“After his breakfast.”

Emma sighed. “No, I’ll tell him. I’ll make it more about me than a directive from you. No reason he has to be pissed at you, too.”

“The children understand we care for them.”

“I know, just, I want him to get along here. Love the school. Love you all. Make the most of himself. He won’t if he resents anything.”

“But what of your feelings?” Pomfrey prodded.

Emma shook her head. “I’ll manage.” She drew a deeper breath. “I’ll go talk to him, then I’ll leave you to your morning. Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“You’re welcome, professor.”

Emma dipped her head then stepped around Pomfrey to enter the mostly empty ward where Henry slept soundly. At first she simply gripped the end of the bed, staring up the length of the bedsheet. She tried to move her throat around the sudden lump that formed. His features looked so young -- the tiny, helpless babe he had once been so easy for her to love and protect. But his face held a maturity too. His fading baby fat was beginning to reveal her cheekbones and his father’s chin. His eyes were hers at least, but the manner, the energy, the insistence that life should be grabbed with both hands, that was all his father.

Trying to protect Henry, Emma had shown him frankly the precariousness of their situation, between the working class environs of London, and the seeming magnificence of the world of magic users. Until Minerva had entered their lives she had mostly convinced Henry to contain his magic use to their back alley flats where bumps and noises only angered the neighbors, but a cat changed to a tea kettle need not be explained because it remained unseen.

There had been a few public incidents, and Emma had been able to fob off some as imagination. Those she couldn’t sent them packing into the night, Emma using her skills to blur minds and vanish their contracts so that the landlord had never seen the blonde woman nor brunette boy. She kept their lives private, unshared with others. If you made nothing of note of yourself, no one would really remember you had ever been. Henry’s father had lived by that code when Emma met him. And likely, she knew, he had since died by it. Emma hadn’t seen him since before she’d even known she was pregnant. The man, a very definition of ‘street rat’ almost always sporting scruffy three-day beard and scruffier clothes, had simply vanished.

She shook herself and finally reached for Henry’s foot beneath the sheet, rubbing it. Henry’s foot twitched, then his face muscles twitched, and finally, he slowly opened his eyes.

“Hey,” she greeted.

“Hi,” he replied.

“Madame Pomfrey says she’s releasing you today. You’ll get to go to the Quidditch match like you wanted.”

Henry nodded. She could see the caution in his eyes. He was waiting for the verdict.

She didn’t make him wait. “I don’t want you flying, Henry.”

He grumbled. “You can’t stop me.”

“I can,” she replied, adding in a fierce whisper, “I’m your parent.” She watched him grimace. “I have arranged it with Pomfrey and Hooch.”

“Forever?” he asked, scrunching his forehead and then rubbing his brow. She saw his wince. She could see he was close to tears trying to restrain his emotions because of their secret.

She tried to explain, feeling the panic afresh. “I still feel like I almost lost you,” she said. “I can’t do that. I need you to be whole and healthy. I don’t see you squint to focus. So, two weeks?”

He got a gleam in his eye -- yeah, that was definitely Neal -- and pushed himself to sit up, wincing as his head protested the change in pressure. “What if I get it checked and cleared by Madame Pomfrey in a week?”

Emma slowly moved up to the headboard, looking into his earnest features. She brushed back his bangs. “All right.”

Henry sniffled back his tears and rubbed his face into her chest as he threw his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I love you so much,” she whispered back. “Now, I have to go. I’ll see you in class tomorrow, right?”

He rubbed his nose with the back of his fist and nodded.

Emma walked away, head down, past Pomfrey.

At the door of the infirmary, she pushed out as someone pushed in, slamming shoulder to shoulder with another teacher.

“Professor Charms? What on earth!”

Emma averted her gaze and ignored Regina Mills, instead picking up her pace and beginning to run down the corridor.

Regina stared angrily after the blonde, fingers twitching to yank her back magically for an explanation.

“Professor Mills!”

The excitement in young Henry Swan’s voice put Emma Charms out of Regina Mills’ mind and she spun on her heels, striding quickly to the boy’s bedside. “Good morning, Henry.”

He smiled up at her and she saw his reddened eyes. “Are you still in pain?” she asked. “I can ask Madame--”

He shook his head. “No, I… I’ll be fine. I’m glad to see you.”

She smiled and settled onto the side of the bed as had become her wont when visiting him for the last two days. She had visited between her morning and afternoon classes, as well, sharing his luncheon, though she left his evening meal to his Ravenclaw housemates, who also never failed to visit, often sharing stories he would retell her over breakfast.

* * *

 

 

“Be careful, Swan,” Regina cautioned as the boy rushed into the hugging arms of his friends, Yomar and Alyssa. Chase, one of the Ravenclaw prefects had escorted them to the infirmary to collect Henry Swan and take him out to see the quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor which was opening the season.

From among his friends’ arms, Henry’s gaze caught hers and he smiled widely. Regina swallowed and nodded, maintaining her mien even though she felt that smile deep into her chest, like a squeeze on her heart. The students clambered, chattered and laughed, regaling Henry with their adventures without him. They promised to recreate some experiences when he expressed regret at missing the fun.

Regina stopped moving, taking a seat as she heard Hooch announcing the teams.

“Professor Mills?”

She looked to see Henry stood beside her. “Yes, Henry?” She looked around to see that the other Ravenclaws had taken seats a few rows back. She expected he would say something, then join his housemates.

“Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.” He pressed his lips together in response to her words and Regina wondered what he was thinking. He glanced toward his friends and then sat on the bench next to her. Another warm squeeze occurred in her chest. She patted his shoulder, unable to form words. She was about to tell him to run along -- so she could deal with her emotions in peace -- when the game announcer shouted.

“And the quaffle’s in play! The match is underway!”

Young and old eyes riveted to the air above the pitch. The Ravenclaw box erupted when Cordelia Gray, one of the Ravenclaw chasers, slammed the quaffle hard toward the goal circles, nearly taking off the head of a Gryffindor beater.

 

###

 

The Ravenclaw score caused roars throughout the stadium. Ravenclaws and Slytherins, who were anti-Gryffindor on principle, cheered. Gryffindors groaned, and Hufflepuffs clapped politely.

Beside Headmistress McGonagall, Emma Charms booed with her hands cupped around her mouth, until Minerva’s elbow hit her in the ribs. “Hey!”

“Decorum, dear. Teachers don’t take sides.”

“So why are we sitting in the Gryffindor box? You don’t find neutrals at a football game,” she groused.

“You’re referring to the Muggle game of soccer, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Some Muggle-born students play that in the courtyard on Sunday afternoons.”

“I’ll check it out.”

“That’s not necessary. They do not need supervision --”

“It’s not about supervision. I want to have some fun.”

“You intend to play?” Minerva sounded scandalized.

“Yeah. Unless there’s a league among the staff -- which I doubt.”

“You’d doubt correctly,” Minerva replied, looking like she’d swallowed a persimmon, lips scrunched and brow furrowed in deep disapproval.

“Then I’ll check out the kids’ football game on Sunday.”

Minerva shook her head and the two women returned their attention to the game.

“These kids are all using magic to fly their brooms, right?”

“Yes, dear.”

“How do you keep them from -- I don’t know -- just vanishing brooms out from underneath other players, or equally nasty spell-casting?”

“Rules, dear. Some children follow them.”

Emma laughed. “And how about kids carrying grudges onto the field?”

“We did have some incidents when young Harry was a student, but those were perpetrated by adults in the stands. The students are too busy playing the game.” Minerva looked at her sideways. “Something on your mind?”

“Henry still wants to fly. And play this game.”

“He’s quite the fearless young man.”

“This game has left players unconscious for days!”

“And out there, in the Muggle world? What more terrible things can happen to children?”

“But I protected him.”

“You can’t shelter him forever.”

Emma stared across the pitch as cheers and boos went up again, this time in Gryffindor’s favor. Henry booed, in true fan form, making Emma smile with memory of a football game they had attended together a little more than a year ago. The teacher beside him opened her mouth wide, shocked, and put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at the brunette -- and now Emma recognized Professor Regina Mills. Henry smiled at his professor and explained something which made the woman’s frown smooth away.

Another bit of action on the field turned fortunes again and cheers erupted among the Ravenclaws. Henry leapt to his feet, turned to friends behind him and exchanged high-fives. Then he turned and Emma saw he was facing Mills. He paused but then shrugged and smiled wide, holding up his hand anyway. The teacher looked at Henry’s hand and Emma frowned as she looked on the verge of refusing his gesture. But then Henry grabbed her hand and slapped their palms together. He grinned up at her, the expression so familiar it hit Emma in the gut.

He’d given her the same look at six years old when she had followed the explanation of his absent father with a promise, “You and me, kid. Always. I got your back.” He had replied, “I got yours, too, mama,” and given her that same exact smile. A promise, a commitment to their being a family. No one else had received that smile. Until now. Emma scowled.

Across the field, the brunette’s confusion broke and a shock passed into her features. Emma frowned; the woman looked shyly pleased as she sat down in super slow-motion and Henry took her hand.

Emma growled deep in her throat.

“What on earth? Emma, did you make that sound?”

“I gotta go.”

“Right now? Just relax, the match will be over in a little while.”

Emma sat; but she didn’t watch the competitors. Her gaze remained, instead, on Henry and Professor Regina Mills.

Gryffindor lost. As Emma flowed out of the stadium with the rest of those in attendance she passed through a cheering and glad-handing throng of Ravenclaws. She had lost sight of Henry in the crush of bodies, but then she spotted him, walking off with several of his housemates, bouncing on his toes and continuing to occasionally throw up his arms with cheers.

Then she spotted something moving backward through the crowd and realized it was Regina Mills, waiting up for Henry. He smiled -- that smile again -- at her and reached out for her already outstretched hand.

Emma saw red. She strode purposefully toward Regina Mills. Just as their gazes met, Emma felt something trip up her feet. When she stumbled and looked down, she saw nothing. She glared behind her, spotting Minerva tucking away her wand.

“Professor Charms,” Minerva said, as polite as you please, as she reached where Emma had stopped. “Might I see you in my office?”

Emma felt Regina’s gaze on them; she was near enough to hear after all. Heat built on her neck and she nodded. “Yes, Professor.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Emma! What is going on with you?” Minerva demanded once they were in the office. “I’d expect this sort of volatility from one of my students, not one of my professors.” Minerva saw Emma’s lips quirk and could almost hear the protest about to come out of her mouth. “Leaving aside the fact that you are, in fact, one of my students, perhaps I should rephrase that as a question why you are behaving so childishly? And toward one of the other teachers?”

“She got too close to Henry.”

“She did?” Minerva was confused. “Perhaps he needed assistance. She’s been at the infirmary every day during his convalescence.”

“She was?” Emma frowned. “Why?”

“She supervises Ravenclaw house. What exactly is it you think she’s done?”

“Henry, he... He gave her our smile.”

“Your smile? I don’t understand.”

“It’s our family smile,” Emma said, knowing she sounded utterly ridiculous, but also helpless to stop her plaint. “It means we’re a family, we’ve got each other’s backs.”

“So he trusts Professor Mills, why is that such a bad thing? House supervisors are often parental toward those in their house.”

“But I’m his parent!” Emma blurted.

“You’ll have to find a way to work it out, Emma. Regina Mills is staying in Henry’s life as long as he is a Ravenclaw and student at this school.”

“Then I’ll quit. I’ll take Henry and we’ll go back to London and we’ll forget this nightmare ever happened.”

“How do you propose to do that? Henry knows about this place already. He’s learning, he’s growing, and he’s happy.”

“I’ll put a memory spell on us… What’s that one… obliviate,” Emma retorted, reaching for her wand.

Before Emma could finish, Minerva had her own wand in her hand and snapped, “Confuto!”

Emma crashed to the ground unable to hold herself up with her own balance as her arms were pinned magically to her side. But her vocal chords continued to work just fine. “Minerva!”

“Emma, listen to reason. I can’t let you go. Furthermore, I wouldn’t even if I could. You can’t keep trying to outrun your problems.” Minerva crouched next to her as tears painted Emma’s cheeks. “Dear, that isn’t any way to raise your son.”

“I’m not raising him, not anymore. She is!”

Emma struggled against the restraint spell and Minerva marveled at the power the younger woman wielded without any training. She could feel the magic seeping from the girl’s pores. Just when Minerva reached out to brush away the tears, touch the magic, to be able to somehow understand it, Emma’s body shivered, almost went transparent, came back to full view once, and then vanished.

“Bloody hell!” Minerva snapped. She flicked her wand and cast a swirling viewer onto the air next to her, spotting Emma, clearly no longer petrified from Minerva’s spell, in her quarters throwing things into a duffel bag.

Rising to her feet, Minerva rushed through the corridors, hoping to reach Emma before she can complete her departure.

* * *

  


“Stop!” Emma spun at Minerva’s arrival in her doorway.

“I need to get Henry.”

“Neither of you is going anywhere.”

Emma raised her wand in hand and uttered, “Agito!”

Minerva felt the spell brush her skin, setting it tingling, but the spell’s lack of focus allowed her to remain unmoved, though Emma had undoubtedly wished her pushed aside.

“You need to stop, calm down.”

“I am calm!” Emma retorted.

“You’re shouting. Strangest definition of calm I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, you don’t know me!” Emma lifted the duffel and started for the door. Minerva remained standing firmly in her way. “Get out of my way.”

Praying this was the right course of action and she wouldn’t end up petrified on the floor, Minerva shook her head. “No.”

Emma started to back up, arm raising. Minerva forced herself to remain calm, non-reactive.

The magic Emma attempted to call up fizzled visibly on her hand. Minerva watched with fascination as green eyes swirled with the effort. The strain started to break out in a sweat on Emma’s forehead. They mingled with tears on her face as she rushed at Minerva, obviously hoping the surprise might do something to change the stalemate.

Minerva half-expected Emma to vanish before her eyes, as she had twice already, transporting herself magically to wherever she wanted to be other than here, but it didn’t happen.

The blonde woman barrelled into Minerva’s body and the two tumbled to the floor.

The strain took its emotional toll on Emma and she collapsed crying, balling up her body on the floor as though she might protect her soft underbelly from predators. Minerva held on quietly, saying nothing.

When Emma was cried out, and Minerva moved her exhausted body to the bed where she slept like the dead, Hogwarts headmistress sat down and began going through the small bag of meager belongings for some clues to the woman’s true history, because obviously there was more to Emma Swan Charms than just being the lost daughter of Snow and David Charms.

 

###

 

 


	7. Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma's out of control magic convinces McGonagall to make a precipitous decision. As Emma explains to Henry what will happen next, Professor Mills overhears something that shocks her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize profusely for leaving this story to languish. Inspiration for anything SQ has been dying within me. However, I am going to try to finish this, and a few other stories, before I completely depart the fandom. - LZ

**Chapter 7**

Emma rolled over onto her back, groaning as muscles protested. The room was dark, but it was clear she was still in her quarters at Hogwarts. She felt the dried tear tracks on her face, and recalled the events of the previous day with shame. She swallowed, certain she was only awaiting the decision to have her committed to Azkaban prison for attacking the Hogwarts headmistress. Then there was movement in the room and she jolted upright.

“I’m still here, Emma, and you aren’t going anywhere either.” Minerva’s voice continued as the woman’s face became illuminated by a candle in the space between one breath and another. “I’d like to talk about some things, if you’re willing?”

“You...uh, yeah, um, okay.” Emma put her feet on the floor and bent over her knees, rubbing her eyes. Deference and remorse kept her head down. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”

Minerva pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down upon it. Emma watched the woman’s hand start toward her knee only to pull back and rest instead in her own lap. Emma had done that, taken away Minerva’s comfort around her. She looked up sadly, meeting sorrow-filled blue eyes. She wanted to cry again and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, sniffling to pull the emotion back inside.

“It’s worth a lot, Emma. I promise. I’m upset, but I’m beginning to understand that I didn’t prepare you for this. I have to remind myself I only found you and Henry six months ago.”

“So, what happens now?” Better to get the verdict and deal with reality than keep letting her mind spin over to panic about things that might be. Emma exhaled.

“I think we shall press a bit of a pause button. I need you, Emma, but I need you whole and healthy and happy.”

“You’re sending me to a shrink.”

“A what?” The words burst from Minerva, utterly confused and appalled.

“A psychiatrist.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your mind, dear.”

Now it was Emma’s turn for confusion. “Aren’t you sending me away?”

“Absolutely not, but I think we should make you a student rather than a teacher.”

Emma countered, “I can’t really see myself running to Care of Magical Creatures or Herbology at six in the morning.” She thought of the Potions teacher, Mills, and bit her lip.

“We will each teach you after hours. Also, I still require your assistance in planning lessons for Muggle Matters.”

“Who’s going to teach it?”

“I shall. At least until we have someone sent from the Ministry.”

“So you do think I’m too dangerous to be around the students.”

Minerva didn’t answer. The candle in her hand gutted and went out. The silence and dark was calm. At long last, Emma gingerly took the candle from Minerva’s hands and, grasping only the base, mentally pushed a little magic at the smoldering wick, relighting it. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Tell me about the first time you used magic,” Minerva asked gently. “Do you remember?”

Emma frowned. “You mean consciously?” She shook her head. “First time I consciously tried something was after Henry was born. He’d… I don’t know. Done levitation of one of his toys, to  bring it to him, when I was distracted. I saw it crossing the room. I panicked, looked out the front window of our little flat. The landlady.. I leaped for the toy, missed it, but somehow I pulled it into my hands after staring at it hovering there in the air between Henry’s outstretched arm in his crib, and me on the floor.”

“You don’t recall consciously using it before then?” Emma shook her head. Minerva asked, “And what of afterward, when the landlady mentioned what she saw?”

“I told her that Henry and I were playing catch with the toy. He’d thrown it. I caught it. That was the end of that.”

“But it wasn’t the end of it, was it?”

“You know it wasn’t.”

“All right. What about your own childhood? Now that you look back, what do you remember about magic?”

Emma sighed. “I did what Henry had done… a couple times.”

“More than that, I’ll wager.” Minerva asked, “What did it feel like? In your body? When it happened.”

“Like butterflies when I feel nervous, anxious. When I push it harder, it’s like pounding against the ground, it even thunders in my head like the rumbling of a train across the fields.”

“Has it ever been easy?”

Emma thought hard. Finally all she could come up with was, “It’s easier when I don’t think about it. When it just  _ is _ , y’know?”

“Using a wand makes you self-conscious then?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s try without it.” Minerva blew out the candle. “Light the candle.” Emma reached for it, but Minerva held it out of reach. “Light the candle,” she repeated.

Emma glanced toward the candlewick, barely visible in the darkness of the room. “Lumos.” The candle flickered briefly but extinguished in the next second.

“Did you ever light anything before you came to Hogwarts?”

“I turned on lamps but, you know, modern world really doesn’t need…”

“No candles at all?” Emma shook her head. “All right. The lamp on the wall - turn it on.”

Emma started to her feet. Minerva grasped her hand. “From here?”

“Do you have to touch it?” Minerva asked.

“No, but I’d just make the lights come on when I entered a room.”

“Did you make them, or did they just come on? What were you usually doing when it would happen? It didn’t happen all the time, right?”

Emma sat back down. “It didn’t. If I was looking for something.”

“So the magic aided you. But if you didn’t have need for it, it didn’t happen.”

“I guess.” 

“When you left the classroom and appeared down to the broom lesson, you needed to be there.”

“Of course! Henry was hurt!”

“And when you said you were going to leave, take Henry, and leave Hogwarts, you were angry with me.”

“I...Minerva, I...It’s so...I’m sorry.”

Minerva gently cupped her knee. “It’s all right. I’ve been trying to figure out what spell you did. No one is supposed to be able to apparate inside Hogwarts, Emma. Yet, that seems to be exactly what happened. Twice.”

“I fell.”

“You fell?”

Emma puzzled through the sensations. “That’s what it felt like. What it feels like. Going to the door, through the corridors, and all the stairs. I knew there wasn’t time. I pushed forward, and then...I was falling.”

“But you weren't visible.”

Emma fell silent, thinking back through her life.

“Henry would go through walls,” Emma said. “He took straight lines almost everywhere. Even as a toddler.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry. He doesn’t any more.”

“Are you certain?”

“Henry played with his magic,” Emma explained. “Once he discovered it, it was all a game to him. Get this, go there, levitate toys, dump water on his head in the tub.”

“Oh my.”

“I kept having to stop it knowing if someone saw we’d be tossed out as freaks. Or worse, locked up.”

“Fear and need drove your magic development,” Minerva summarized.

“But I can play with it, too, a little,” Emma said. “I showed off to Professor Mills in King’s Cross.”

“You did?” Minerva’s lips quirked and then pressed together, blue eyes dancing, as if suppressing merriment. Emma wondered why. “How did you do that?”

“You remember I told you about making the bags dance?"

“I do.”

“Well, um, one of them was hers."

“Why did you want to show off to Professor Mills?”

“She’d said some really snide things. Implied I was a lost, magicless Muggle.”

“She insulted you. So you were angry.”

“But I didn’t do anything  _ to her _ . No harm done, right?”

“It does explain why Regina and you have such prickly interactions.”

“So, can I learn to control my magic?” Emma asked.

“Absolutely. Young students who are anxious learn it, learn confidence, become better at using their magic.”

Emma exhaled. “So I guess I take up meditation or something, huh?”

“Maybe. For the next few weeks, however, let’s give you a short leave of absence. Let you relax. There’s a town nearby called Hogsmeade. If you’d really like to get away there’s an inn, and a tavern. Nice butterbeer. We can take meals. Talk. And then there’s the winter holidays. Instead of going back to London, you and Henry--”

“Henry can come?” Emma asked with excitement.

“First year students don’t normally get to visit the town. But perhaps I can make an exception. I think we should ask Henry to let it be known who his mother is.”

“But if I’m going to stay?”

“Rolanda’s right. None of the teachers will show him favoritism. And the children can learn.”

“It’s not generally done.”

“No,” Minerva admitted. “We have students whose parents are professors at Beauxbatons. We have an exchange student whose parent is on the faculty at Ilvermorney. One of our professors has child enrolled at Durmstrang.”

Emma’s brow furrowed, not familiar with the names, though from context she gathered they were other magic academies like Hogwarts. “So Henry or I might have to find another place.” Her heart clenched at the idea separating from Henry so completely.

“I asked you to come here. I believe it will work, Emma.”

“And that’s enough to stand against an entire establishment?”

“I’ve seen one person stand against thousands, and I’ve seen hundreds stand against an evil so systemic that they had no idea who  _ wasn’t _ against them. But they  _ stood _ . They didn’t give up.”

Emma bit her lip and nodded. “All right.” As she stood Minerva rose also. “A leave of absence then.” The clock on her bedside table made a small chime of the hour. They glanced at it. “It’s only a few hours until dawn. I’m sorry to have kept you up all night.”

“Rest. Your stay in Hogsmeade will start this Friday. Read your books. You can even practice a few small spells if you like, but mostly, I’d like you to rest.”

“Can I leave?”

“These rooms, certainly. But I’d rather you didn’t leave Hogwarts without me.”

Emma nodded. “I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”

Minerva pulled her against her body. Emma felt awkward at first, but then the grip felt secure rather than smothering and she gradually closed her arms around Minerva’s back. “I can’t say it’s been no trouble, but I will say it’s going to get better.”

“Can’t really get any worse.”

Minerva pulled back and cupped Emma’s cheek. “It can  _ always _ get worse, dear, and usually does, at the worst possible moment.”

“Way to cheer me up.”

“Sleep well. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

 

###

 

Taking her breakfast in the common hall, Regina poured her tea and added the milk before she slathered a boysenberry scone with butter she warmed with a tap of her finger. The aroma made her smile just before she bit into the indulgent confection.

“Attention, everyone.” 

Regina looked up to see the Hogwarts headmistress had entered from the east corner of the common dining hall. “Students scheduled for Muggle Matters with Professor Swan in the south tower classroom will meet in the east tower second floor classroom at your scheduled time.”

“What happened to the south tower classroom, Professor?” a student near Minerva asked. Regina smiled at recognizing one of her Ravenclaw charges.

“Nothing happened to the classroom, Mr. Kexos. Professor Charms has taken a leave of absence to handle some matters. I will be teaching the class.”

“You will?” Regina asked.

“Yes, Professor Mills.” Minerva turned on her heel and walked out of the dining hall before Regina could formulate any further comment.

She wondered what had actually happened with Professor Charms. She was still puzzling over this question when she noticed Henry hurriedly getting up from the Ravenclaw table, leaving his friend Kexos behind with a bewildered expression. 

 

###

“You’re really leaving?” Henry asked. “But why? Did I do something?”

“No,” Emma said quickly. She turned and put her hands on his shoulders, drawing her son around to look at her. The action stopped their amble on the castle bridge. She crouched down and looked up at him. She saw his father in his features so strongly in that moment it caught her off-guard with a quick inhale. Neal had left her; Henry never would. And she had promised him while he was just a bundle in her arms that she would never leave him. “Same thing happened to me that always does. I screwed up.”

“But you can do this. You can do anything.” Henry’s tone was earnest and he put his hands on her shoulders to emphasize his belief in her. 

He sounded surprisingly grown up when he spoke next. “Is it your magic?”

Emma nodded. “Yeah. It’s going haywire. ”

“Is something going to happen to my magic, too?” Henry worried. “It’s the same as yours, isn’t it?”

“No way!” Emma rushed to reassure. “See, um, it isn’t really the magic. It’s me. I’m not…”  _ I’m not happy _ , she thought. “I’m not adjusting well to being all-magic all the time. You’re learning to control it in your classes; I never got the chance to learn. Min---McGonagall has arranged some help for me. I gotta go get it.”

“Is it too far for owls?” he asked.

“Nope.” Emma smiled, straightening again and stepping back, though she left one hand companionably on her son’s shoulder as they walked. “I’m going to move to Hogsmeade. McGonagall says she’ll arrange for you to visit. After I get settled.”

“Why can’t we both go just live there? I can still come to school every day.”

“Hogwarts is a boarding school for a reason, Henry. You need time to study, and time making friends. If you came with me, you’d have to add in travel time every day too. Less time for the important stuff.”

“You’re important to me! I love you!” Henry flung himself at Emma’s midsection, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his face into her chest. 

She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed her eyes shut to pinch back her tears. “I love you, too, Henry. So much.” She kissed his head, smoothed his hair, gently untangling his arms, and stepped back, gripping his hands. “Which is why I have to make sure I...get better.”

“But your magic never went haywire at home. Maybe we should just leave, go back to London.”

“Uh, no. No. You stay here, in school where you belong.”

“How does Professor McGonagall think that going to Hogsmeade will help you?”

“Like I said, I’ll be learning to control my magic.”

“Professor McGonagall will be teaching your classes? How’s she going to do that?”

“She’s pretty well versed in the Muggle world, Henry. She’s the one who found us, after all.” She added, “I’m still writing the lessons.”

“Yeah, but…” He screwed up his face. “Maybe I can help.”

Emma smiled and ruffled his hair. They paused by the railing to look out over the large lake. “Maybe you can.” 

She inhaled and let out a long breath as the breeze came up from the lake and started to blow through their hair and across her exposed skin. She looked down and thought that Professor Mills would definitely not approve of her being out of robes. Currently she wore typical London street clothes, a pair of jeans and a loose blue Oxford shirt, long sleeves rolled up past her elbows. Henry, of course, was in his robes. Again, she sighed. He had taken to this life so well.  _ Why the hell couldn’t she? _

“There you are, Mr. Swan. You should be in your dormitory, young man.”

Emma and Henry turned, startled at the voice of Professor Regina Mills.

###

Regina saw Emma Charms’ hand on Henry’s shoulder and saw red. “Professor,” she stressed, remembering Minerva’s admonition that Emma was a member of the Hogwarts faculty deserving of respectful address. “Charms, is it?” She couldn’t resist a dig. “Not very  _ charming _ to keep one of my house out past curfew.”

“Hen-- Mr. Swan and I were just... having a discussion... about class.” Emma nodded toward Henry, who appeared to wait for that nod before giving an overly vigorous one to Regina.

“I heard about my… professor… Charms leave of absence,” Henry said. “I wanted to know if…it would change… an assignment.”

“It won’t,” Charms hurriedly added, looking from Regina to young Henry and then back up to meet Regina’s scrutiny.

“It’s still no excuse to be out past curfew, young man.”

“Hey,” Emma scowled at Regina. “You lay off him. I kept him out late.”

“I have more than enough to say to you, Professor Charms. But now is not the time. Go to bed, Henry.”

“But, I --”

“Good night, Henry,” she said firmly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Charms’ lift her hand from Henry’s shoulder, closing the fingers into a fist, tension in the arm easily noticeable. She whipped out her wand, but before she could say or do anything, she felt an ephemeral push back which quickly released, and then Henry stood between her and Emma, his hands up toward her.

“Stop! Please.” He looked immediately behind him at Emma. Regina glared at the blonde. “I’ll go. Uh, I... see you?“

“I will see you again soon, Henry.” Emma said. She sounded slightly strangled. “Stay safe. Study hard.”

“As head of Ravenclaw House, I am responsible for his safety,” Regina said. “You are merely his professor, nothing more.”

Emma threw a spell; Regina had no idea how, because she hadn’t seen the woman’s hands more than flex. She found herself thrown backward. 

Then Regina thought she must have imagined the magic throw. She was pinned now, against the stone wall, with Emma’s hands gripping hers, face inches away.

“Stop!” Henry’s voice came from behind Emma, but despite Regina’s struggles she couldn’t see him, and she couldn’t free herself. “Stop! Ma! Stop!”

Emma fell back as if thrown, landing on her ass at Regina’s feet, arms and legs akimbo, staring up at Regina and then Henry. Released so suddenly herself, Regina sagged against the wall, staring at both of them.

Her brain rapidly processed everything from the preceding moments. 

She finally blurted, “You’re his mother?”

Henry winced and grabbed Regina’s arm. “Please don’t tell anyone! Don’t treat me any differently.”

“Hen--Why? What?” Regina shook her head.

Emma had righted herself. The woman bit her lip as she stood in front of Regina straightening her robes. “Henry felt that people would treat him differently if everyone knew he was a professor’s son.” 

Regina shook her head. “But you aren’t related. Your family name is Charms. Henry is a Swan.”

“That was my name, before I found out who my real parents were,” Emma said simply. “I had Henry… when I was… single.” Emma seemed to settle on the word choice carefully. “So no one is lying here. We… just thought what people didn’t know… well, it wouldn’t hurt anybody.”

Regina was caught by the turmoil roiling in swirling green eyes. She couldn’t think of anything to say, her mind swimming with so many questions, nothing could push its way past the logjam in her throat.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Henry pleaded again.

Regina jerked her attention from Emma to Henry, her gaze picking out elements in each face that were similar. “Henry is your son.”

Emma swallowed. “Yeah.”

Regina snapped her gaze back to Emma. “Are you here because your son is here, or is he here because you are here?”

Henry’s hand landed on Regina’s arm. “I think maybe we should go talk with Professor McGonagall.”

Neither woman could disagree with that.

###


	8. Slight Change in Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McGonagall tells Emma, Regina and Henry her plans. While Emma and McGonagall go off to Hogsmeade, Regina makes a promise to Henry.

**Chapter 8**

 

Minerva met them at her office. She made no comment, but waved them all ahead of her into the space she had modified to her own needs as headmistress. Gone was the scrivening bowl, and the phoenix stand. Fawkes hadn’t been reborn from his ashes after Dumbledore’s death. Minerva preferred to keep few personal trinkets here, saving them for her personal space. This was a place of business, with the Ministry or other oversight figures for the school. Troublemaking students were only brought here under the most severe circumstances. She preferred enacting student discipline on the spot.

This conversation, she knew however, needed to happen behind closed doors. Officially. As she gestured toward the upholstered chairs around the desk, she caught Regina’s gaze and frown as she lowered herself into the nearest chair. Emma’s hands were glowing, but she was trying to rub the rising tide out of sight. Minerva had to bite her lip to avoid chuckling when Emma abruptly sat on her hands and gave an utterly fake smile to the other occupants of the room.

Henry looked worriedly at Emma until he apparently couldn’t take the lack of contact any more and grasped her lower arm. Emma jumped and then exhaled, removed that hand from beneath herself and placed it in Henry’s.

“Will someone explain why we are all here at this hour?” McGonagall asked, looking from one to the other of the women.

Regina spoke first. “I encountered Mr. Swan out of his dormitory past curfew. Miss -- Professor Charms was with him.”

“She accused me of not caring for his safety!” Emma snapped defensively.

McGonagall said, “Mills is Ravenclaw head of house, and…”

“She knows.” Emma said dejectedly.

“She knows what?” McGonagall asked.

“Professor Mills knows that Ma...well, that Professor Charms, is my mother,” Henry supplied. “It sort of came out while we were….well, yelling at each other.”

“Is that true, Professor Mills?”

“That I know they are mother and son? Yes.”

“No,” McGonagall sighed. “Were you yelling at each other?”

Regina looked reticent to respond, as well she should if she’d broken decorum so much as to yell at another teacher in front of a child. Emma spoke up, breaking the silence. “I...with my magic.” She looked down at her hands, now both up in front of her in mid-air, turning them over. “I pushed her away.”

“I see.”

“Backfired, actually,” Emma said with a sigh. “I really can’t stay around the kids like this. I knocked myself to the ground, too.”

“I pushed you back from each other,” Henry said, looking between his mother and Professor Mills. “If anyone should be punish--”

“No one will be punished, Mr. Swan,” McGonagall assured him. “I have however decided on the perfect resolution to this disagreement about your safety between your professors.”

Regina’s head snapped up from looking at Henry to looking alarmed at McGonagall. “Excuse me?”

“You are absolutely correct that you are responsible for the boy’s safety, Professor Mills.” McGonagall stood up and walked over to put her hands on Henry’s shoulders. “You will therefore see to it that Mr. Swan is escorted -- by you -- every weekend to visit his mother in Hogsmeade for the remainder of the term.”

“What?!”

McGonagall turned and looked at Emma. “You will be expected to give your lessons for the Muggle Matters classes to Professor Mills when she returns with Henry to Hogwarts by Sunday evenings.”

“What do I do while Henry is visiting with her?”

“You will teach Emma to use her magic,” McGonagall said.

The proverbial pin-drop could be heard in the ensuing silence. Regina’s mouth actually hung open. Noise resumed like a cymbal crash when Emma jumped to her feet. “She can’t teach me!”

Regina nodded vigorously, apparently agreeing with the blond woman’s assessment.

McGonagall, however, remained quiet, not easily drawn into debates after she has made a decision. “You have experience with the widest varieties of magic,” she told her Potions professor. “Weren’t you telling me about your trips to Asia Minor and South America to study the ancient magic sources there?”

“Yes, but --”

“Then you are the most skilled in identifying the source and method of Emma’s magic and teaching her how to control it.”

“But you!”

“I had fully intended to teach her myself, of course,” Minerva said. “But this is such a better allocation of resources. Not all of us gone to Hogsmeade at once. Much better for all concerned.”

“But I--” Regina cut herself off, and subsided. She didn’t look particularly pleased, but she would argue no further.

McGonagall spoke with grace, even though inside she was gloating, just a teeny bit. “Thank you, Regina.”

Emma sat down hard in a chair once again. “So, how much is a 2-room flat in this town?”

“I don’t intend to make this a permanent relocation,” McGonagall said. “You will be staying at the Three Broomsticks Inn. Madam Rosmerta will work with you during the week. The sooner we get your situation under control, the better.”

“Situation, right.”

McGonagall heard the defeated tone, saw the blonde’s slouched posture, and suddenly realized that Emma was fading into transparency on the chair. Her magic was attempting to take her away from the situation.

Regina snapped, “Miss Charms! Do sit up. Be thankful. You are not being left alone to work it out as many others could and would have done.”

Emma straightened and glared at Regina. McGonagall marveled at the transformation. Emma was solid again and immediately on her feet. “You have no idea what I’m thinking about!”

“Nor, I’m sure, do I care to learn. Do what you can with what you have, Miss Charms. That’s how you will control it, not let it control you.”

Regina turned and headed for the door. Once there, however, she turned back.

“It is quite late. I should escort Henry back to his dormitory. Are we finished?”

“Should I go with Professor Mills, Headmistress?” Henry asked.

McGonagall looked to Emma and then Regina before addressing Henry. “I believe that will be best, Mr. Swan.”

Regina spoke again when Henry had joined her at the door. “Will you please advise me of the first date I am to escort Henry to Hogsmeade?”

“I’ll have an owl sent,” McGonagall confirmed.

When the door closed behind Henry and Professor Mills, McGonagall sat down next to Emma. “Let’s go pack you a few things,” she said.

“ _Accio_.” Emma snapped her fingers and a scuffed duffel appeared mid-air and dropped to her feet. “I’ve been practicing.”

“I can see that.” Minerva stood. “Hopefully nothing in there is breakable.”

“I’ve never acquired much to keep in my life. There’s just a few scraps of clothes, and my class planning materials. Hopefully I won’t be asked to attend any formal events in town.”

 

# # #

Henry walked silently beside his Potions professor as they moved through the school. It was now well past curfew and the silence of the halls was a bit unsettling. He jumped when she spoke. “Henry?”

“Yes, Professor?”

“I don’t mean to pry, but...do you…” Professor Mills shook her head and resumed walking.

“Professor McGonagall found me in May. She caught me doing magic and ordered me to direct her to my home. She wanted to talk to Ma about allowing me to do magic where Muggles could see.” Henry shrugged. “I had no idea what she was talking about. Ma didn’t call what we did magic. It was accidents, and we were not supposed to be seen by people. I had no idea what Muggles were. I actually thought they were stray animals in the streets as that was who I was ‘performing’ for, making balls and sticks fly around the alleys so they could chase them.”

“I see.”

“Ma was _really_ mad. McGonagall had barely started speaking, revealing what she had seen me doing, when Ma yanked me to her and then pushed me into my room where she shut and locked the door.”

“I peeked out -- locked doors don’t work on me -- and saw her trying to work a memory spell on the lady.”

“Oh, I’m sure McGonagall loved that.”

“She knocked my mother to the ground with some sort of immobilizing spell.”

“Petrifica totalis?” Regina asked.

Henry tilted his head, sifting back through his memories. “Yeah, I think so.”

“And then what happened?” Regina asked.

“My mom stood up and said,’who the bloody hell are you?’” he faithfully repeated, then winced. “Sorry,” he said quickly.

“She stood up from a petrification spell?”

“Yeah.”

“Your mother started fading away in the office a moment ago. Does she do that often?”

“Only when she really wants to get away from something.”

“Do you...can you do anything like that?”

Henry straightened and shook his head. “Ma doesn’t like me to.”

“But, you can?”

“Yeah. That’s what every wizard does, magic.”

“Henry, I’m sure McGonagall has told you that untrained wizards are generally not capable of such advanced spells.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh.” Henry looked back in the direction they had walked. The moving staircases were realigning again with loud grinding sounds. He wasn’t even sure now which hallways they had started from. “Maybe that’s why Ma doesn’t want me to do it. She doesn’t like us to stand out.”

“You two really knew nothing of the wizarding world your whole life?”

“My mom was orphaned since she was a baby. Never had a family. We never met any other wizards, I don’t think. It’s just been the two of us. And we moved a lot to keep people from finding out when we made mistakes.”

“I’m surprised then you weren’t found by the Ministry before then. Even if the Muggle authorities weren’t tracking you, that no wizard found you either suggests no one was looking for her.”

“Like I said, Ma has nobody else. We made no connections. She worked odd jobs. That made it easy to pull out when we had to go. No one ever missed us.”

“I’m not surprised, if she used an obliviate spell on them like she tried with Minerva.”

“Obliviate?”

“Makes the victim’s mind completely blank on whatever topic the caster wants forgotten. At least that’s the outcome when it’s used by a skilled wizard. Your mother may have left a lot of total idiots in your wake.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Henry said. “I know she wouldn’t have wanted to hurt anyone.”

“Your mother is apparently unaware of her own strength -- and that is a huge weakness for a wizard.”

“Can you help her?” Henry asked. “I don’t want to lose her.”

In front of the Ravenclaw entry, Professor Mills lowered herself into a crouch and tugged Henry’s robes down on the sleeves, and straightened his tie, which brought their gazes level. She nodded. “Yes, Henry, I promise you that I will do what I can to help your mother gain control of her magic.”

Henry moved forward to quickly for Professor Mills to move away. His arms were around her neck and he was pulling his head against her cheek quick as a flash. “Thank you,” he exclaimed, his lips moving against her cheek as he spoke.

Regina reeled back on her heels, and rose to her feet as Henry backed away from her, issued the Ravenclaw entry password and hurried through the entry into the dormitory.

###


	9. Needful Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After two weeks in Hogsmeade, Emma ruminates on the possible means to control her magic based on all her experiences in the Three Broomsticks Inn. At sunset, she opens her door to find Henry, and Professor Regina Mills.

**Chapter 9**

Emma sat at the small writing desk in the corner of a simple room. The window outside showed snow flurries blowing past, and there was the occasional knock of wind at the window frame. Looking between her texts and hastily scrawled slightly damp notes -- her idea process was often inspired in the shower and just as she awakened in the mornings -- Emma was composing a lesson plan as the week’s end noises were growing in the tavern below.

Madam Rosmerta had been a revelation during Emma’s first two weeks in Hogsmeade. The salt-n-pepper haired woman was gruff but realistic. The very first night, as she was being shown to her rooms, the owner of the Three Broomsticks Inn told Emma that she would be expected to pitch in around the establishment. The conversation about changing the room still had her a bit baffled, though.

Emma had made do in far smaller spaces and was more than satisfied with the two rooms she was shown. They interconnected through a joining door, and each had a window looking out to the quiet alley behind the inn. She had decided the second would be Henry’s room for the nights he stayed over with her. “This is very nice. Cozy.”

“The space looks small but ye can be making it bigger on the inside. I’ve got meself a nice flat at t’other corner.”

“How would I make it bigger?” Emma had asked.

Rosmerta had smiled. “Come with me,” she said.

Emma had then been taken to a similarly nondescript room door on the other end of the hallway. She knew from the outside of the building the room beyond could be nice, but large?

Rosmerta swung her door inward and Emma could only gape. The space beyond was organized into four rooms, at least. To the right of the doorway Rosmerta had welcoming sitting room with an eclectic assortment of furnishings occupied what seemed to be a space the same size as one of Emma’s rooms. A log fireplace, chimney climbing to the roof, dominated the far wall. Four chairs, overstuffed and mismatched pieces, were arranged semicircle in front of it. 

Rosmerta gestured Emma inside and closed the door behind them which revealed the area opposite the sitting room: a kitchen. Emma noted it was not one of those hostel half-things with a hotplate and percolator, but a full-service kitchen. She took note of a Christmas goose-sized oven, beneath a four-element gas stove. The prep counters were spacious and plentiful.

“I don’t like to take my meals all the time with the help,” Rosmerta said simply. “Besides, why pop downstairs for just a spot of tea in the night to help me sleep, eh?”

“Wow. How did you fit all this in here?” Emma looked at the arrangement of shelving, cabinetry, and counters. Then her inquisitive gaze reached the double-basin sink where a sponge spun on its own and washed a small stack of dishes. She looked at Rosmerta, then noticed another door behind the innkeeper, leading presumably into more rooms. “There’s still your bedroom, and water closet?”

“Through that door, I’ve  _ two  _ bedrooms and a water closet, and access to attic space where I store all the things I can’t bear to part with.”

“Your space was...is...the same as mine?”

Rosmerta nodded. “It’s a maximus spell.”

“I could learn to do this?”  _ Man _ , she thought,  _ if I’d known magic could do this... _ She and Henry wouldn’t have had to cram into the one-bedroom flats they’d found in the corners of London.

“It’ll take some practice, but Minerva says you’re a quick study.”

“My magic seems to be...unconventional,” Emma admitted.

The innkeeper patted her shoulder. “We are, each of us, a bit unconventional, my dear. Make it work for you. That’s the trick.”

Now sitting in her simple rooms, Emma set down her feather pen and decided a little adjustment to her space here was worth trying. Rosmerta warned her that it wasn’t as simple as imagining what filled the space -- that too often led to a jumble of things that tried to fit themselves into still finite space. The key, she’d said, was to “walk it out,” casting the spell as you went: this here, that bitling there, another over here…”

During the week just past, Emma had gotten to practice a number of spells, supervised by Rosmerta. She’d broken only two glasses and one plate. She had, however, set fire to a broom which she’d set to sweeping out the ashes, amid still warm embers, in the dining room’s fireplace. After each mistake or accident, with a snap of her fingers Rosmerta would vanish each of Emma’s messes. 

“Not bad. More care about how the different parts interact,” the innkeeper had advised.

Looking around her rooms, Emma wondered if she could do more. She had no need of anything elaborate to fill this space, but she cared that Henry find something more interesting than bare walls when he arrived for his first visit that weekend. Henry’s owl, Whiz, had arrived with her son’s message yesterday.

Emma decided the room’s one window could be larger to let in more light. She aimed her wand at the window:  _ engorgo _ . The window began to swell in size. The brickwork around the sill shifted.  _ Just a little more _ , she thought. The window’s white-framed glass panes rattled. Then two panes fell inward to the floor and shattered on the wood flooring. The window frame was expanding, but the glass panes were not. She quickly lowered her wand and balled up her hand to shut off the flow of magic. Heaving a deep resigned sigh, Emma looked down at the shiny glass bits scattered on the floor. 

_ Okay _ , so that’s  _ not  _ how it’s done. She waved and the glass pieces swirled in a cloud to fall into the refuse bin next to the desk. 

A chilled wind now blew in through the window’s empty panes. Emma replaced the glass with a thought then tossed herself onto the single bed against the wall. On her back, staring up at the ceiling and then at the white walls, she thought about the flat she and Henry had rented when he was nearly two. 

It hadn’t been much bigger than these two rooms, but there had been so much stuff inside the small space, for all of Henry’s toddler needs. How had she made it all fit? She didn’t remember stumbling over his toys, and everything had its proper storage place. The kitchen had been tiny, but there always had been enough counter space to prepare their meals.

She had remembered the landlord coming in once to fix a leaky pipe in the bathroom and being startled. When she’d asked him what was the matter, he had said, “I see everything fits.”

Emma thought about that flat again. Had she already performed the spell in the past, subconsciously enlarging that space out of necessity? She looked around the Three Broomsticks room. She had needed that tiny flat so long ago to fit everything because she hadn’t been able to afford the larger unit the landlord had first shown them.

_ Need _ , she thought. Was that a key to unlocking control of her magic? Emma didn’t need much though. She had a lot of wants though. Mostly things related to creating a stable life for Henry. Hogwarts was finally that for him, she knew. In just the few weeks of classes already, she had seen him grow more self-confident, more connected, making friends. Not having to hide some part of himself had already made Henry happier.

So that took care of Henry. But, Emma wondered, what did she need? 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Was it already time? She glanced toward the window. It was sunset, she realized. That had to be Henry. Her heart thumped happily. And Professor Mills. Her throat tightened at the thought of the judgmental woman.

Emma sat up, looked down at her rumpled clothes and decided she wasn’t going to project how inadequate she felt. Quickly she waved her hand and the clothes she wore suddenly appeared freshly ironed.

Giving another wave of her hand Emma organized the scattered materials on the desk surface into neat piles. Satisfied, she moved quickly to the door and opened it.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Henry!: Emma beamed at her son and they fell together in a hug. “How were your classes this week?” she asked when he released her.

“Great!”

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” Emma asked. “Would you like to go downstairs and eat something?”

“Can we? I’ve never been in a magical inn before. I saw a spoon serving from a big pot.”

“That’s Madam Rosmerta’s stew,” Emma said. “It’s pretty good.” She glanced up at Professor Mills, her question clear in her eyes before she voiced it. 

The professor stood back from the doorway, surprisingly looking awkwardly at anything but mother and son. The brunette teacher wore her Hogwarts robes. 

“You wanna join us, professor?” Emma greeted, determined to be polite, thankful that the woman seemed determined to care for Emma’s son.

“I should see about reserving a room for the night,” Regina declined the invitation.

“Ah, yeah, right. Well, if you’re still hungry after settling in, you can join me and Henry.”

The brunette nodded stiffly. “Perhaps.”

Emma pushed Henry toward the door. “Go get us a table, kid. And two butterbeers.”

“Okay, Ma!” Henry hurried down the corridor and then the stairs to the main floor, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

Turning to Regina, Emma swallowed and spoke quietly, “Thank you for bringing him, Professor Mills.”

“We will discuss your magic tomorrow,” Regina said, not really a reply. Then the brunette turned on her heels and left Emma standing alone in her doorway.

On the main floor, Emma found Henry bringing two butterbeers to a small corner table. Two bowls of stew were already on the table, spoons thoughtfully laid alongside. She sat down and lifted one of the butterbeers. “Thanks, kid.”

He hugged her and quickly sat down in front of the other bowl. “Where’s Professor Mills?” He was already scooping stew before he finished speaking.

“She’s getting her own room,” Emma said.

“So what are we gonna do first?” he asked, around a mouthful of food.

Emma directed a napkin from the dispenser to float to Henry’s hand. “Wipe your face, kid.” 

Henry took the napkin out of the air, rolled his eyes, finished chewing, swallowed, and then wiped his mouth. “So, what are we gonna do?”

“You want to spend some time decorating your room here?” she asked.

“I have my own room?”

“Yeah. They gave me a double.”

“Wow.”

“I’ll give you the grand tour after you finish eating,” she said with a smile.  _ God, it was good to see him _ . Nibbling only sporadically on her own meal, she examined Henry while he ate. He was wearing his school robes and she realized he hadn’t brought anything with him. “We’ll find you some comfortable clothes in the shops tomorrow. Did you bring something to wear to bed?”

He reached into his robe’s pocket, and started to withdraw a bit of fabric. She realized it was his pajamas. Henry explained, “I treated the pocket with a potion we learned in class this week. It’s not quite bottomless, but I can carry a lot.”

Emma nodded at the proud smile her son gave her. “I’m glad you’re learning so much, Henry.”

“What about you? Have you learned to control your magic yet?” The eagerness of his question told her he had just been waiting for her to create an opening to the topic.

“I’ve made a little progress, only broken a few things,” Emma admitted.

He smiled encouragingly at her. “That’s great. Any new spells?”

“No, just learning how to control stuff I’ve done in the past.”

“Like what?”

“Enchanting kitchen utensils, making the bed, tidying up.”

Henry nodded, absorbing everything. “Have you figured out why your magic goes haywire?”

“I’m not sure. My spells seem to work best when I need a particular outcome.”

“That makes sense. I’m focused more when I’m practicing a spell for Flitwick’s class than when I’m just playing around with my friends.”

“You use magic playing with your friends?” Her mind flashed back to times when she had warned him about not playing his “tricks” in front of their neighbors and his school chums.

“Yeah. We had a paper fight on Tuesday when we were all bored writing papers for history class. It started when Omar threw a draft parchment he’d messed up. I lifted it magically out of the refuse and directed it back toward his shoulder. After that, it was a free-for-all.”

“And I made the boys clean up every last paper ball.”

Emma looked up from the table to see Professor Mills approaching the table. The brunette had in her hands a bowl of stew and a mug of what looked to be ale.

“Hey, professor,” Henry said. “You should join us.” He moved so there was space on his bench at the small table. It wasn’t really big enough to fit three people.

“I don’t think I should, Henry. Thank you for the offer. I’ll find another seat. I just came over when I heard you talking.”

Emma looked at Henry to see how he was taking his teacher’s words. His expression was downturned; clear disappointment. Emma put her hand on the table. “There’s plenty of room. My son wants you to join us. Have a seat, Mills.”

The table extended under Emma’s hand. The bench beside Emma stretched to match.

Mills stared at her. Emma looked down at the transformed table and bench. “It’s definitely about need,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Emma waved off the professor’s question. “Have a seat.” She scooted a few inches away, showing the wider space on her bench.

“Thank you,” Regina said and sat down. “So, your magic’s working now?”

“In a few situations. Madam Rosmerta has shown me a few things. Made me think.”

“I see.” Regina fell silent after that, eating her stew and drinking her ale.

“You can report back to McGonagall that I won’t need your instruction.”

“I was instructed to teach you, so I shall,” Regina replied. 

Emma watched the brunette close her mouth quickly after the comment, and return her attention to her food. It was clear to her that Regina Mills was not pleased to be given the task of teaching Emma, but it was just as clear that she felt unable to refuse the assignment. 

That made Emma decide her antagonism, at least in this, could be set aside. “Okay, so...we’ll start after Henry’s gone to sleep.”

“I thought I’d finish all my studying tonight, so I can spend all of tomorrow with you touring Hogsmeade,” Henry said. “I’ll go back to the rooms and do my work. You and Professor Mills can do whatever you need to.”

Emma looked at Henry. “You don’t want to spend tonight watching movies like we’d do back home to start the weekends?”

“Can you watch movies here?” Henry asked.

“I can figure out something,” Emma said, realizing that they didn’t have a player, and movies were likely hard to come by in the shops.

Henry looked from her to Professor Mills and back again. “Nah, I can manage. I think studying will be a better use of my time.” He finished scraping the last of his stew from his bowl and stood. “See you tomorrow, Professor.”

Regina’s head dipped and her eyes filled with a tender smile.  _ That smile _ , Emma thought. The one that had made her crazy at the quidditch match. Emma lifted her arm to grasp Henry. “We won’t take long, kid. I’ll be up soon.”

He instead moved inside her reach and hugged her. “Love you, Ma.”

“I love you, too, Henry.”

“Good night, Mr. Swan,” Regina said.

Henry smiled at his teacher. “Thank you, Professor.”

Emma and Regina both watched Henry walk out of the dining area and proceed up the stairs to the rooms. “Will he really study?” Emma asked.

“I have observed Mr. Swan to be a very studious child,” Regina said.

“He really did that, though, to get out of our way,” Emma said.

“Yes, he did. Your son loves you very much.”

“It has been just the two of us for all of his life,” Emma said. “I’ve always tried to do what was best for him.”

“Now, he is doing what is best for you.”

“He shouldn’t have to change because  _ I’m  _ a mess.”

Professor Mills sat up straighter, inhaled, closed her eyes, then exhaled and opened her eyes. Brown eyes looked at Emma so directly, she felt for a moment like she was being subjected to mind-reading and started to sit up straighter herself, defensive.

“You are  _ not _ a mess, Miss Charms. What you are is untrained. You are also not familiar with the wizarding world in general. So I think we shall begin there.”

“A history lesson?”

“A bit of perspective may help you find the purpose you seek.”

“I know what my purpose is. I’m an adult, raising a kid on her own.”

“That’s your responsibility. Purpose is...well, why you have magic.”

“I have magic because my parents did.”

“You are a pureblood, yes. Both your parents were wizards. However, consider now the Muggles. Occasionally we find a magical child who has a Muggle as either one or both parents. How did they get their magic?”

“You gonna take me on a magical biology lesson? I remember learning about genes in high school biology. But seriously, it’s kinda useless in my life.”

“Think about it. You have magic, but you could have, just as randomly, been a squib,” Regina pointed out.

“What the hell is that?” Emma hissed; the way Regina had said it, she felt she should be insulted.

But Regina went on matter-of-factly. “A squib is a child of magic users who can’t access or use magic. However, everyone needs a purpose in life. Magic or not.”

“I obviously can use magic. It seems pretty clear that I was unconsciously using it throughout my childhood, and then, out of necessity, to protect us after I had Henry.”

The professor nodded again. “I agree. There are a number of defensive spells you seem to use completely unconsciously. I believe that the key to gaining control of over your magic will be gaining control over yourself.”

“I control myself just fine.”

“You protect yourself, Miss Charms.”

“Well, I’m not going to let this world walk over me any more than other one did.”

“Do you trust no one?”

“Just Henry.”

“Then trust that he believes I will be helpful to you.”

Emma sat back, slouching on the bench, bouncing her fork in the remains of her stew. Finally she looked up, finding brown eyes studying her, deep thoughts only partially masked. “So where do we start?”

“Will you step outside with me?”

“So I don’t break something in here?”

“No. I want to get a feel for the extent of your magic. I have studied many methods of magic users all over the world. I have observed that you don’t  _ execute  _ magic so much as think what your magic needs to do. I am going to attempt to figure out exactly the cornerstone of it.” She held out her hand. “May I see your wand?”

Emma twisted her lips wryly and reached down, pulling up her pantleg and withdrawing the wand from her boot. “I get it back, right?”

“Of course. A wand cannot be taken from its owner without a magical fight. It will always work better for you than any other wizard.”  

“Well, it doesn’t exactly work very well for me now. It gets in the way more often than not.”

The potions professor laid her wand down next to Emma’s on the table. Emma’s six-inch hickory had a rough look compared to Regina’s long slender applewood. She leaned forward curiously. She hadn’t really noted differences in wands before. She tried to recall the appearance of Henry’s wand.

“You acquired the wand from Olivander’s shop in Diagon Alley, yes?”

“Yeah, that’s where McGonagall took both Henry and me.”

“The core is dragon heartstring. It vibrates at a lower frequency than most materials.”

“What does that mean?” Emma asked. She reached out, nervous now that her wand was just sitting out in the open like this.

“It means it moves broader strokes of magical energy. The magic will cover more ‘area’. Even when used to execute complicated spells.” 

“So, how do I make it work?”

“You don’t  _ make  _ it work.” Regina picked up the wand and handed it back to Emma. “Pushing your magic will overload it. Your intent gets quickly overblown.”

Emma thought about her attempt to adjust the size of her rooms upstairs. “Like enlarging panes so quickly the glass falls out?”

“You attempted something?”

“I thought about making the window bigger in my room.”

“Which spell did you use?”

“Engorgo,” Emma said. “I saw a kid use it to make a rat bigger to scare his friend at lunch.”

“But the window isn’t a rat. It’s in a wall and therefore part of something else.”

“Yeah. Well…”

Regina stood. “All right. I might know now where we can begin.”

Emma looked up, still feeling reluctant. Brown eyes met her gaze with intensity.

“Trust me?” Regina asked into the lengthening silence.

Exhaling, Emma pushed the bench back and stood up. “Henry does, right? OK.”

She followed Regina out of the Three Broomsticks Inn and into the chilled night. She had forgotten her jacket upstairs in her rooms. Regina had summoned her coat to her from the rack inside the inn on her way out and was already belting it around her waist. Emma rubbed her arms and shivered.

“You’ll need your coat, Miss Charms.”

“I left it in my room.”

“Fetch it then.” Emma turned to walk back inside. “No,” Regina’s voice stopped her. “Use the spell  _ accio _ .”

Emma looked up, realizing the window to her room was on this end of the inn. She tried to remember where she had left her red leather jacket, thinking maybe it was on the back of her chair at the small writing desk. “ _ Accio _ jacket!” she said loudly, pointing her wand at the window.

Her jacket did indeed get summoned -- smashing through the window glass. The bits of glass rained down on her as the jacket zoomed toward her.

Emma was staring in dismay at the bits of glass flecking the leather when she heard Henry’s shout from above. “Ma! What?”

“Just getting my coat,” she said.

Regina critiqued her, “You threw too much magic for the simple task.”

“Thanks for the memo,” Emma replied sarcastically, even as she put on the jacket. “Shall we go?” She reached up and flipped the bottom of her hair from beneath the collar.

Regina didn’t move. “No. You now have a window to fix.”

Emma looked up. She nodded. “Henry, get back,” she warned. Again she lifted her wand. “ _ Reparo _ ,” she said quietly, restrained, worried if she misfired she could hurt Henry.

This time, it seemed, her magic flowed at the correct pace and remained focused. All the window’s broken bits swirled and reorganized, then reset into the frame.

From behind the now-fixed window, Henry showed Emma a pair of thumbs up. She grinned and turned to see Professor Mills’ reaction.

The brunette was standing, arms crossed on her chest, consternation clear on her features. 

“What?” Emma asked. “I did it, didn’t I?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina may have finally deciphered Emma's magic. Though teaching the younger woman how to control it means that Emma faces a steep learning curve. _Lots of talkiness, perhaps too much, and most probably a major alteration in magic as established in the Potterverse. ~LZ_. Hopefully it's enjoyable anyway.

**Chapter 10**

 

Regina identified the sharp sting in Miss Charms’ tone as frustration. In the next moment, she realized the woman might be physically an adult, but untrained in her magic, she was behaving not unlike Regina’s students. So she refocused herself to treat this like any classroom exercise.

She uncrossed her arms and responded calmly, “Yes, you did fix the window. What do you think made the second spell a success?”

Emma frowned, obviously having been expecting a criticism. But then her defensive posture relaxed. She looked from Regina to the window. Before she could voice any thoughts, however, the sound of a door swinging open drew both women’s gazes to the front of the inn.

“Mum! Professor! Did you see?”

Henry fell against his mother’s frame and the blond wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against his hair.

Regina felt a knot of discomfort form in her chest as she watched the display. It was the same feeling she had experienced when approaching mother and son in the inn’s dining room earlier. They were quite tightly bonded. A fleeting thought crossed Regina’s mind: her own mother would not have hugged her, or even welcomed her touch. She was left with a feeling of disgust at her own lack of mental discipline.

Minerva had said, and Charms had confirmed only moments ago, that Emma and Henry had only each other through some quite difficult times. The care and support they readily gave one another was a manifestation of that. Henry had quickly admitted to being the one to push Regina and Emma apart, rather than let either her or McGonagall assume it had been Emma’s untrained magic, or even maliciously directed. Emma’s insistence on Henry’s safety was absolutely motherly. But there was something more there.

The blond was now telling Henry something about how she had cast the window-repairing spell. She turned the knotty oak wand over and around in her hands, and Regina was reminded of her own study of it. 

Oak.  _ Resilience _ . The dragon heartstring was for big magic, defense --  _ no, that was dragon scales _ , Regina corrected. The heartstring was commitment, strength, power to guard.

Dragons  _ guarded _ . Their treasure, their young.

To guard her child, Emma had been able to obliviate memories with a thought. To reach her child in danger, Emma had apparated. Within Hogwarts. What if it hadn’t been  _ apparation at all? _

“Professor?”

“Professor Mills?”

Regina blinked as the twin questioning voices disrupted her thoughts. She stared at them. “Dragon,” she said.

“Huh?” Emma asked.

Though his expression was as befuddled as his mother, Henry was able to form a more coherent question. “What about dragons?”

“The magic your --” Regina shook her head, and stopped talking to Henry. This was about Emma’s magic, and it was important to address her directly. “Your magic,” she restarted, looking now at Miss Charms. “I believe the root of your magic is dragon magic. Dragon magic is usually defensive -- dragon scales can be harvested easily, and used in any number of defensive potions or as defensive wards in spell casting. But your wand core is a dragon’s  _ heart _ string. The dragon’s heart is rarely harvested. It’s almost useless mere minutes after it is separated from the dragon’s body.”

“So she’s not a dragon?” Henry seemed to deflate a bit. “So how is she using dragon magic?”

“Dragons are known for their fire, their flight, and their hoarding. But they are also fiercely protective over those they’ve bonded with, and the oldest dragons have been said to  _ Pass Through _ time and space.”

“Seriously?”

“It would explain your ability to vanish and appear somewhere else. Hogwarts has wards preventing apparating, but  _ Passing Through  _ is completely different.”

“This is about the wand? I told Minerva I don’t need the wand.”

“The wand simply complements your magic, Miss Charms. Use it or not, your magical style is still similar to dragons. People have studied dragon magic...” Regina trailed off, combing her vast and varied magical knowledge. “The answer’s there. Somewhere. We may have to travel to Romania.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’ve never met a dragon,” Emma snorted. “So, how’m I supposed to have learned this  _ style _ ?”

“Romania! Cool!” Henry said. “When do we leave? Where’s that?”

“Eastern Europe,” Emma answered him almost absently, which surprised Regina. But the blonde then immediately turned to Regina once again. “I was born in Britain. So were my parents.”

“Magic isn’t solely in one’s genes. Why do you think Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor constantly argued who should be trained in its use? A gifted magic user can be born to Muggles. The current Minister of Magic is a perfect example. Two powerful wizards can still have a squib child. A magic user’s raw abilities are honed through a chosen course of study.”

“So I _chose_ to use dragon magic?” Emma’s tone was once again, scoffing at Regina’s conclusions. “When? Where? How? And, bloody hell, for that matter, _from_ _whom?_ ”

“What do dragon magic user specialize in?” Henry asked eagerly.

Regina answered him. “Most dragon magic users historically were alchemists, gemologists, and treasure hunters.”

Emma asked, “What do these guys do today?”

“I told you this magic style is rare, Miss Charms. To my knowledge, there are no specialists in dragon magic alive today, other than yourself. And dragons, of course. The Ministry could know more, but by their very nature, these types of magic users would be loners, enjoy solitude.”

“Well, great. I’m a little old to go on some Y.A. quest,” Emma said.

“Y.A.?” Regina queried.

“Young adult. The books and stories I guess all kids read around Henry’s age.”

“Oh.”

“Good reads, most of the time. Entertaining. They’re filled with these quests. Awkward kid, weird mystic, dire predictions, unfamiliar places, insane challenges, magical objects, and …” Emma abruptly stopped her increasing incomprehensible rambling ( _ thank god _ , Regina thought), but then she blurted, “Oh, god, I  _ am _ trapped in a Y.A novel!” and Regina felt a headache start to pulse behind her right ear.

“You are certainly not a  _ young adult _ . You are, to be quite honest, behaving like a pouting child right now, Miss Charms.”

“Hey!”

Regina settled to a sidewalk bench. Henry sat to her right where he fit easily. Emma reached down and extended the bench with a touch of her fingers to the wooden planks on Regina’s right before seating herself. 

The simplicity of Emma’s execution of the magical action should have clued Regina into the conciliatory tone coming next. 

“Okay, you’re right. If you think I need to study dragons, I’ll study dragons.” Her gaze left Regina, releasing her from the unsettling feeling in her stomach, and turned to Henry. “She’s good people, kid,” she told him, and Regina was surprised to feel heat on the back of her neck at the praise.

“Yep, I know.” Henry leaned into Regina’s side; the child’s generosity with touch and contact yet again rocked Regina’s usual reserve. “Ravenclaw rocks.”

Emma snorted, then said, “McGonagall’s a Gryffindor. So am I apparently.”

Regina who was still reconciling Emma’s ability to drop onto seemingly random tangents, did not contain her surprise. “You were sorted?” 

“Yeah, McGonagall put that wrinkled hat on my head and it told me Gryffindor!” Mimicking the hat’s sonorous voice Emma looked at Henry, who laughed easily.

“I see,” Regina reined in her surprise. She knew the qualities ascribed to each of the houses. She hadn’t ever heard of sorting anyone older than eleven years of age, but if McGonagall had done it, and the Sorting Hat had proclaimed it, the house assignment was most likely accurate. Most students grew to embody the qualities of their houses, even if they were uncertain or awkward in the beginning.

“Though, it’s best I’m not actually in the house.” Emma sounded ruminative.

“Oh?”

“With all the mishaps I’ve done, just in two weeks here, I’m sure to have lost so many house points, there’d be no chance for Gryffindor to win the House Cup.”

Henry openly laughed at that. Emma blushed. The self-deprecation, for once was not rancorous, but humor-laced. Regina’s fingers slipped across Emma’s on the bench. She felt a weight press on her shoulder and glanced back to see Henry had put his hand on her. She lifted her lips to smile at him, but felt them tremble, raw with an indefinable emotion. “It will come with time,” she said, turning back to meet Emma’s gaze.

Emma said nothing and only after a long hesitation where Regina could only hear all their breathing, the blonde’s fingers slipped away from Regina’s touch. “Well, um, thanks,” Emma said.

Henry moved from behind Regina to stand alongside his mother. Regina caught the attempt to discreetly yawn from the young man and started to stand. “Perhaps we should retire for the night. We can continue studying this further in the morning.”

Emma straightened. “I did promise Henry a tour of Hogsmeade in the morning.”

“Have you been to the bookshop?” Regina asked, standing from the bench and taking the moment to smooth her coat and robes.

“Briefly.”

“Tomorrow we should begin your studies there.”

“All right. C’mon, Henry, let’s go see what we can do about the rooms.”

Regina watched the way Emma’s fingers slipped across her son’s shoulders and knew a sense of loss. She started toward the inn on her own, leaving mother and son behind.

“Regina?”

“Miss Charms?”

“Sorry. Professor Mills?”

“Yes?”

“I...I’d appreciate if you helped me. Make sure I don’t accidentally collapse the entire north end of the inn.”

“You’re planning some adjustments?”

“Well, um,” Emma paused and rubbed the back of her neck, a move Regina was coming to understand was soothing away the discomfort of feeling weak and asking for help. “Yeah, the rooms are quite small.”

Regina nodded. “Lead the way.”

# # #

 


	11. Hogsmeade Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma, Henry, Regina, and Minerva, take a walk around Hogsmeade. But this is less a "Google Street View" walk, and more about letting Regina and Emma walk around inside their heads with regard to one another. Some significant emotional shifting happens. I do believe you'll like McGonagall's reactions to it all.

With Henry close and openly fascinated by his mother's think-aloud remodeling of her room at the Three Broomsticks Inn, Regina could only watch for so long before she stood silently and slipped away. The Charms woman was doing fine, it seemed, as long as she was calm and focused. Regina felt distinctly like a third wheel while mother and son laughed and talked.

Once inside her room for the night, Regina sent an owl to McGonagall summarizing her observations and thoughts about Emma Charms' magic source. After watching the owl disappear against the moon's glow, Regina rolled into the serviceable bedding and resolutely closed her eyes. If Cora Mills' face appeared in her mind, jaw stern and mouth in a tight, disapproving line, no one but she would ever know of it.

# # #

Downstairs that Saturday morning, Regina found young Henry, Miss Charms, and Minerva McGonagall communing over warm cups in the Inn's common room. Minerva spoke before Regina could retreat. "Professor Mills, good morning."

"Professor McGonagall," Regina replied. She tried for confidence, but she heard surprise instead.

The Hogwarts Headmistress said nothing, but her head dipped. Regina took that as permission to join them.  When she had settled on a bit of bench space next to Henry, Miss Charms pushed a mug toward her across the table where the blond sat next to Minerva. "Here."

"Thank you," she said, though she pushed it back toward Charms. "I should get my own."

"Stay, Regina," McGonagall said.

"Yes, Professor."

"You did the right thing," McGonagall said, and Regina's shoulders rounded. She glanced toward Henry to see his reaction. His eyes were wide and happy, looking at her past the rim of his mug. "I may know, or at least I believe I have a good idea, where and how Emma came to use dragon-magic."

Regina couldn't help her surprise. She glanced at Charms who had what was becoming a typical expression on her face: one of worry. She looked down at her own hand, to see it laying on the table mere inches from Emma's. Slowly, she curled her fingers and pulled back, snagging the mug from earlier to cover her odd reaction.

Minerva was speaking when Regina came back to focus. "..Boggart's Bend."

"Yeah, the fire the system people said they rescued me from."

"The fire was mostly out by the time they found you. The report indicated you were found under a set of beams, covered by ash, but otherwise unhurt. You had a mild cough." McGonagall paused. "One note, one tiny note, from the firefighter who pulled you out indicated you had coughed small bits of smoke. So a paramedic checked you for smoke inhalation and damage to your lungs, miraculously finding none. They made no further mention of it."

Regina struggled to imagine the blonde woman beside her as a tiny scared child. Her strong self-reliance now seemed to have a source. Trying not to do so, she scanned the visible parts of the young woman, hands, throat, face. There were no scars. She'd seen children pulled from collapsed buildings, even fire-riddled structures, and the scars on their bodies disfiguring even after many grafting surgeries. "No burns?"

Regina realized she had spoken aloud when McGonagall's gaze sharply intersected hers. She pursed her lips and dropped her gaze away from Emma.

To Emma Charms, Minerva stated, "Based on Professor Mills observations, and this fact, I do believe she is correct. You protected yourself and the manner of that protection is dragon magic."

"So Mum really is a dragon," Henry said.

"No, dear," Minerva said. "She uses the power of their magic. To protect herself, and you. She's done it so long she has mastered it."

"Well, mastery is questionable," Regina stated. She responded to Emma's frown. "If you were living in a cave, on the edge of the wilderness, defending yourself against hordes, what you have could be considered control." She shook her head. "But you live with _people_ and that means you have to rein it in."

Emma nodded; Regina realized the blonde woman appreciated her frank assessment. "Yeah. So you think I could learn this?"

Regina found herself responding to Emma's quest for assurance, and her lips tipped into a promising smile. "I do. You demonstrated that when you repaired the inn's window."

"Repaired window?" Minerva asked, a bit alarmed.

"I broke it when I got my coat," Emma said. Regina saw Henry slip a hand over his mother's on the table.

Minerva shook her head, but she was smiling. "I see. So, what do you suggest Emma do next, Regina?"

"Me?" Regina was surprised.

"Yes, Professor. You correctly identified the situation. So I trust you can develop a course of study for our dragon-magic user."

"Some meditation would be beneficial."

"So I still need to go study some dragons?" Emma asked.

"Perhaps not," Minerva said. "Simple human meditation techniques could help. Perhaps even more than the other."

"Divination practitioners offer several meditative techniques, to clear the mind for reception," Regina stated.

"We don't currently have a Divinations professor," Minerva pointed out. "No, I believe that you should instruct Emma."

Regina's eyes widened, but she finally inhaled and exhaled. "Fine. I would prefer to return to Hogwarts, however. I have many responsibilities."

"Agreed." Minerva's quick statement filled Regina with a sense of foreboding. She glanced toward Emma Charms to see similar reservations marring the blonde's features. She glanced down to the table, to break her study of the blonde. Henry had yet again taken his mother's hand.

# # #

Emma felt lighter, warmer, more comfortable than she had in months. While McGonagall had said that Emma could return to Hogwarts that evening, Emma fleetingly wished she had more time to spend in Hogsmeade, if only to continue to experience these feelings over and over again. Henry, of course, was her stalwart companion, a steady presence nearby, chattering and inquiring about a million things, while the trio of women and he walked from shop to shop. His inquisitions about every object would have tested even Emma's patience, had she any answers. But his questioning glance regularly went to Professor Mills, who would take his shoulder and discuss the something he wished to study more closely.

The first few times Mills' hand touched Henry, Emma felt her fingers tighten, nails digging into her palms. She would catch McGonagall's eye behind the back of the pair and her fists would unclench. But she could not stop watching; the brunette's emotion-filled smiles were entrancing. Finally, Emma acknowledged the wary darting gaze toward her, Henry's mother, a line of perfect teeth worrying at the dark red fullness of her bottom lip. The reticence would remain until Henry smiled and thanked her for explaining, and his mind and body rushed off to another object of interest.

It was still anathema to Emma that someone else could care so deeply about Henry, be so protective and nurturing. But then Emma would catch the curious tilt of McGonagall's head, gaze dancing from Regina, to Emma, and then Henry, her lips slim but unpinched. And she would smile at Emma, a smile that made Emma feel completely warm, and safe, not merely among friends.

She'd never experienced it with anyone other than Henry after Neal had disappeared. She had assumed it was simply the love bond. When the brunette once again looked toward Emma to gauge her reaction to the properties of yet another magical talisman in answer to Henry's inquiry, Emma decided she liked that, so she smiled cautiously at Regina. The brunette dipped her head, and Emma saw a bit of pink rise in the mocha-skinned cheeks.

Emma approached. "Henry," she spoke safely to her son, not trusting her voice to remain steady should she look at Professor Mills. "I think it's time find something to eat." To draw her son's attention, Emma slid a hand onto Henry's shoulder. That her fingers brushed Regina's fingers should have been an accident.

Brown eyes darted up to meet hers. Emma's mind whispered, _it's not._ She cleared her throat and did not remove her fingers. "Don't you think so, Professor?"

"But there's still so much to see. I don't want to go back to the inn," Henry said.

"We don't have to," Regina said, leaving Emma mysteriously bereft as the brown gaze went instead to focus on Henry. "There are several places to eat. You might enjoy the knocks shop." She looked to Emma again. Her tone offered her next words as a question. "We can get sausages on sticks and continue the tour?"

"That sounds really good," Emma said and her fingers twitched on Henry's shoulder. Against Regina's fingers; a pleasant energy skittered up Emma's arm. Pink returned to the professor's features and Emma's smile widened. "Yeah." 

"It's just down this street," Regina stated.

"Lead on," Emma replied. She stepped back and her fingers lost contact with Regina's. She turned to see if anyone had noticed the cluster of them in the street. Everyone seemed to continue about their business.

"I think you ladies will be fine on your own." When she heard McGonagall speak, Emma turned, only to register that McGonagall was waving her hand and quickly fading from sight. _But..._

Hearing heels on the asphalt, Emma realized Regina and Henry had continued to walk away, not noticing the departure of the Hogwarts headmistress.

"Um." Emma cleared her throat. "Professor? Professor Mills?" 

Regina turned. "Yes?"

"McGonagall's left." 

"What?" The brunette stopped walking, her expression confused as she looked around. Then her lips pursed; Emma now recognizing the pinching as a way to bite back inappropriate words. Then the brown eyes found Emma once more, jaw firmly shaping lips into a tight smile. "Well, shall we go to the knocks shop? Afterward, pack up your things and we will return to Hogwarts." 

"Ah. Yeah. I guess." Emma covered her confused emotions by directing her next words to her son. "Let's go, Henry." She brushed past Regina, their body heat shared briefly on the narrow path.

# # #


	12. Finding Contentment

 

The clicking of nails against the wood of her writing desk awakened Professor Regina Mills from slumber. She opened her eyes in the dim pre-dawn light to see her owl, Daniel, rising and alighting on the wood surface, knowing that his clicking talons would alert her to his presence without the need for hooting. She had trained him to keep his hooting to a minimum in her very first year as a student at Hogwarts. She had always preferred receiving her mail without everyone in the vicinity immediately alerted to her business. She glanced toward the small covered owl-hole she had created in her window to see rain dripping down the aged castle's glass.

Her rising upright gave Daniel the signal to move to her lap. She smiled and stroked his feathers while she carefully removed the twine around a meticulously rolled note. She frowned when it was unrolled, immediately identifying the sharp quill script as her mother's before noting the signature at the bottom: _Mother_.

Her lips set, she exhaled and read the contents:

_Regina,_

_You have once again neglected to write home for more than two months. I know this means that you have once again agreed to teach at that provincial school. I have no idea why I let your father talk me into sending you there when your letter came. I would have much preferred you attend Beauxbatons._

_Your business mind is wasting away there, dear. You should return to the estate's matters. Zelena has managed well enough in your absence, but she has not the head for strategizing that you do. I am certain we have lost too many groats with her poor deal-making._

_Your presence at Solstice is required. Someone must run interference between Zelena and that scruffian Locksley._

Regina sighed. Her mother's letters always contained the same things. Worries about the estate. Laments about Regina's sister and her flightiness. Criticizing Regina's own choices, but then backhandedly insisting that Regina was the only one who had any skill to resolve the situations at hand. Her mother was a crafty business shark, and had been for years. The right- and left-hands sweets-or-sticks tactics had been used by her mother ever since Regina had left for Hogwarts, admissions letter in hand.

There was a knock upon her door. Thinking it might be one of the Ravenclaw prefects with an issue to discuss about the children, Regina immediately magicked herself out of bed and into robes and standing by the chamber door. She cast an identification charm which came back a fluttering frantic confused mess. "Who is it?" she finally asked, opening the door.

"Morning." Emma Charms stood in skintight and garishly patterned red, gray, and purple leggings and an oversized loose shirt, neck wide enough to see her brazziere strap.

"What on earth are you wearing?"

"Workout clothes? Best thing for all that bendy, posing yogi stuff. What are you wearing?"

"We are not doing _yoga_ ," Regina emphasized the correct word. Calming the mind needs to be able to be done anywhere, at any anytime. At its best it meditation creates moments of mental stillness, not calisthenics."

Emma sighed, then smiled, and exhaled. Following her next breath, Emma stood before Regina in her default attire: faded jeans, a white tank top, and a worn red leather jacket slung over one bare shoulder. It was the same apparel Regina recalled the woman wearing at King's Cross Station.

"Do you own nothing else?" Regina asked, exasperation mingled with a note of frustration as she found her gaze tracing down the woman's remarkably well-defined biceps.

"What do you have, besides robes?" Emma retorted. "Are we doing this session here, or somewhere else? I've got courtyard supervision in an hour."

Suddenly realizing under her robes she still wore only a thin nightgown and was definitely under-dressed, Regina grasped her robe at her throat and closed her fingers into a fist. Imperiously, defensively, she demanded, "Wait outside."

With a satisfied smirk, Regina stepped back and waved the door magically shut in Emma's face. But she did not miss the blonde's own smirk; the heat in green eyes sent a warmth through much of Regina's own body.

After two changes of clothes -- thank goddess for magic -- Regina stepped out of her chambers sans robes. Emma leaned against the wall, fingertips loosely caught in the front pockets of her jeans. The blonde straightened and Regina withstood the soft green gaze scrutinizing her final choice. "So you do know how to dress, Mills," Emma said.

Regina glanced down to affirm her choice of soft cotton slacks and a loose pullover in complementary blue and tan.

"Hey, that's your house's colors," Emma noted.

"It's simple enough magic to change clothes colors. Would you like to wear Gryffindor scarlet and gold?" Regina asked, surprising herself with the pleased tone in her voice. The other woman had noticed her effort.

"Scarlet I've already got with the jacket, but maybe a gold shirt?"

Regina knew she could have argued the well-worn jacket was red, not scarlet, but found she didn't want to. "You can do it," she encouraged instead. "You changed your clothes easily enough just now."

Emma looked down at her white tank top; Regina's gaze followed and she was startled to see evidence that the blonde was braless. Covering her surprise, she spoke low, trying to drag her gaze away. "Go ahead, think the color, change your top."

While Regina watched, Emma concentrated and the white tank transformed -- into form fitting gold armor plate. Emma's eyes immediately crossed, clearly her bare chest was being irritated by the metal.

"Feeling the need for a little more protection than usual?" Regina tried, to tease the other woman out of her embarrassment.

Emma's cheeks pinked even further. She lifted her gaze to Regina's and laid her open palm against her stomach. Regina marveled as she watched the solidity of the gold armor soften, water-like ripples spiraled out from where the blonde's long thin fingertips touched. When the effect was finished, Emma's tank top was now golden fabric, a sheen to the threads suggesting silk or satin. Regina nodded to acknowledge the accomplishment, surprisingly unable to speak.

Emma took Regina's hand. Just before Regina felt Emma's magic pull at them both, she registered Emma speaking. "Parapet. Sunrise."

When Regina rematerialized, she and Emma stood on the parapet outside Gryffindor tower -- Regina remembered it was where she had found Emma with Henry out past curfew and where she first learned of the relationship of mother and son.

The sun was just beginning to appear over the mountains east of Hogwarts.

Regina followed Emma out to the edge of the parapet's walk and they sat, legs crossed, on the stone walk. The most compelling peace and contentment pulled on Regina's limbs. Emma smiled, and faced her, golden hair haloed and backlit by the sun.

# # #

Emma discovered Regina was quite adept at teaching meditation and she was successful at tapping into the awareness of her magic both Minerva and Regina had said needed to precede her control of it. Afterward, Emma walked with the Potions professor to the entrance of the Great Dining Hall. Regina said she had to take breakfast there that morning and meet with the Ravenclaw prefects to catch up on what had happened while she was out of the castle.

Emma noted that Regina seemed reluctant to leave Emma's side.

"I feel great," Emma assured. "Really. I think meditation works for me." She'd meant to say her magic, she realized afterward, but the sense of peace she had from the session was generalized. She felt more balanced than she had in years. She had distinctly felt her magic sliding through her veins, able to picture it as rich and golden threads streaming outward from her heart into every part of her body.

At times, she was certain, too, that she had felt Regina's magic settling around her exposed shoulders like a down blanket, warm and comforting when she struggled with a meditative instruction.

Emma's steps mildly bounced as she walked. Confidently she waved her hand and magicked on her professorial robes before entering the courtyard. She almost could hear the Potions professor's gentle praise, which had become common during their meditation.

There was no doubt Regina Mills was a powerful personality, and a strict and dedicated teacher, but Emma was slowly becoming more aware of the woman's core nature of gentleness. She wondered if it was merely teaching, or something else, which had hardened Regina. Emma herself knew something about how life's trials could make a person want to strike out before being struck; she'd lived that very way for more than eleven years.

Hearing the sounds of shoes impacting leather, she spotted a group of students kicking around a football. They wore a mix of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff colors. Their books for morning classes lay in a cluster around the base of a nearby tree. One of them waved to her. "Hi, Professor Charms!"

She smiled and waved back then resumed her walk. Glancing up at the sun-touched turrets of Hogwarts at the corners of the campus courtyard, Emma inhaled the autumn air's crispness, surprised to be thinking, not about the coming cold months, but only the now. The lack of foreboding sense and worry was gone.

Now, Emma realized, she was content and calm. Henry was happy, and they both were going to be safe here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, among people who understood and supported them.

Feeling celebratory, Emma concentrated a moment and formed a small glowing mass of colorful swirling energy in her left palm, then she began tossing it back and forth between her fingertips. Utterly and completely in control.

# # #

From the window of the office of the head of school, Professor Minerva McGonagall smiled at the evidence of Emma's peace-filled thoughts.

 

**End Part 1**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks the end of Part 1 of Muggle Matters. Part 2 is being planned, and you will see the seeds of some of the plot threads I will pull through that part here and in the previous chapter. I hope you have enjoyed the opening developments as much as I enjoyed writing them. For the first time in quite a while, pleasure has returned to my writing, and the time to truly focus on it. It's only a little bit each day, so there are no update timetable guarantees, but with regular writing, I do seem to eventually manage to complete updates. So here's to the hope that Part 2 can be shared more quickly than Part 1. ~LZ


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